Blood and Water
by Commodore Norrington
Summary: When the leader of SG3 is murdered, Jack is forced to bring investigators to the SGC...investigators from the Naval Criminal Investigative Service.
1. Murder at the SGC

This story is a crossover between _Stargate SG-1_ and _NCIS_. A passing knowledge of both shows is probably a good idea before trying this story. For our regular viewers, a few notes. In _SG-1_time, this takes place between seasons eight and nine. In other words, Jack is the general and the rest of SG-1 is still together. In _NCIS_time, this is pre-Twilight; Kate is still in the picture. Grace is an original character introduced in our story "Ties That Bind". I'd recommend reading that first but if you don't feel like it, the only thing you really need to know about her is that she's Kate's daughter.

The rating is for some brief mildly graphic imagery. Nothing more than you would see on either show.

Enjoy the story!

* * *

"You asked her out?" 

"Yeah, man! I wasn't about to let the opportunity pass me by."

The first man shook his head, wondering about his buddy's mental health. Larry was dating at least three women right now and Mike couldn't help but wonder what would happen when one found out about the other girls.

"You're nuts, you know that?"

Casanova Larry only grinned as he punched the button for the elevator. Their conversation paused as they watched the floor display tick off the numbers.

"Working in this place," Larry tried to explain, "I think I'm entitled to a little relaxation."

Mike turned to him, prepared to make a comment about how managing multiple women was hardly relaxing. Suddenly, Larry stepped backward quickly, his face twisting in revulsion.

"What..." Mike began, turning back toward the elevator. His question was answered immediately by the crumpled form on the floor of the car. Blood spattered the walls, lots of blood, but Mike nevertheless stepped forward to check for a pulse. In his shock, training had taken over and he moved automatically.

When he found no pulse, he immediately left the body alone. Experience (and a healthy dose of crime dramas) had taught him not to disturb bodies except for life-saving measures.

"SG-3," Larry commented from the hallway, pointing to the patch on the body's olive-green sleeve.

"We'd better call General O'Neill," Mike agreed grimly.

--------------

"Walter, lock down the base," General O'Neill barked when he arrived on the scene with his assistant.

"Yessir!"

"And shut off the west elevator."

"Yessir." Walter scampered off.

The general surveyed the scene carefully, taking in the blood and the unit patch just as the two SFs had done. He crouched close to the body, careful not to touch it, and noted the small hole at the base of the skull, half-covered by matted hair.

"Goa'uld?" he muttered to himself. "No, too round; must be a bullet. Walter!" he called to the recently returned sergeant.

"Yes, sir?"

"Get SG-3 in the briefing room; I want to know who's missing. Then get Dr. Lam in my office."

"Yessir."

--------------

"Dr. Lam," the general greeted, striding into his office. The base CMO stood and inclined her head respectfully.

"General O'Neill," she replied. "What's going on?"

"Colonel Havelock was found less than half an hour ago in the west elevator. Apparently, he was shot in the back of the head."

"That's terrible, sir!" the doctor gasped.

"Yeah," the general sighed. "I need to know if you're equipped to do an autopsy."

"Well, I suppose so, sir," she answered, "but we don't have any personnel trained in forensic pathology. It'd mostly be guesswork."

"I was afraid of that," he said, almost to himself. "And we don't have an investigative unit here, either. You would think with all the stuff that happens..."

"Sir?" Dr. Lam prompted after a pause.

"Oh, you can go, Doctor. Thank you."

As she left, Jack mulled over the situation. Whatever needed to be done needed to be done fast. His eyes wandered the office, seeking inspiration. Eventually his gaze landed on the red phone that sat on the corner of the desk. He considered it, tilting his head and squinting, until finally he shrugged and muttered, "Why not?"

"Mr. President, this is General O'Neill," he greeted. "With your permission, sir, I'd like to bring in an outside team to investigate a murder on base."

He paused, listening to the tinny voice on the other end.

"It doesn't look like it's related to anything off-world, sir. Just your average, run-of-the-mill murder...We're not equipped to deal with it on-base, sir...Of course we'd only allow them access to 'information pertinent to the case,'" Jack's voice grew exasperated. "Sir, I'm not sure you understand. There is a _murderer_ loose on my base. Someone smart enough and powerful enough to take out a competent Marine officer. I'd like to catch him before someone else dies...Yes, sir...Yes, sir, a Marine...I see. Thank you, sir."

Jack hung up with a sigh, scrubbing his face with his hands in frustration. Now he was going to have to deal with feds and bureaucrats and red tape...and the worst part was, it had been his idea.

"Walter!"

"Yes, sir?"

"See what you can find out about an agency called NCIS."


	2. A Classified Case

"Do you mind?"

"What?"

"Your pencil, Tony. You've been tapping incessantly for half an hour," Kate groused, exasperated.

"Geez, sorry," Tony replied, making a face. "I didn't realize _someone who snores _would find others' habits so hard to deal with."

"I do not snore!"

"According to Jenny Shields, you do," Tony smirked.

"It's true," Gibbs chimed in, characteristically appearing from nowhere with coffee in hand.

Tony raised his eyebrows at Kate. She stood with her mouth open, trying to find a suitable defense. None came to mind and she sat with a huff, silently vowing revenge on the men.

Gibbs' phone rang, saving Kate from further embarrassment, and he answered with a terse, "Gibbs." He listened briefly before hanging up, grabbing his coffee, and heading back the direction he had come.

"We're going to see the director," he called over his shoulder. Kate and Tony glanced at each other quickly before scrambling to follow their boss.

-----------------

"We have a sensitive situation on our hands," Director Morrow began.

"Political, sir?" Gibbs asked, his voice barely containing the obvious disdain he held for politics interfering with his cases.

"In a way," the director answered carefully. "A Marine has been murdered. Your team is the only one I can trust with this."

All four faces (Ducky had been called in as well) openly displayed their confusion but only Gibbs was comfortable with expressing it.

"Sir?"

The director sighed. "The murder occurred inside Cheyenne Mountain."

"NORAD?" Kate exclaimed.

"Not exactly..." Morrow said, his face displaying reluctance to discuss details.

"Sir, with all due respect, my team cannot investigate this case if we don't have all the facts. Exactly what is going on?" Gibbs asked brusquely.

"I can't tell you that," Morrow began, holding up a hand when he saw Gibbs about to explode, "because _I_ don't know. All I know is I've been ordered to get a team to a classified site to investigate the murder of a Marine. Yours is the only team with clearance even near high enough, so you go. Of course, you, DiNozzo, and Todd will have to have your clearances upped slightly but I've been authorized to do so temporarily."

"And Dr. Mallard?"

"Dr. Mallard's clearance is already high enough. Pack your bags; you leave in an hour." The director indicated that the meeting was over.

"Sir, request permission to clear Ms. Sciuto, as well," Gibbs barked professionally.

"Why?" Morrow asked curiously.

"She's an integral part of my team and forensics will likely be key to this case. I'll need her. And with McGee TAD to Norfolk, I'm short an agent."

Director Morrow considered it. "All right, I'll work on it. But you'll have to take her along; no material is being allowed off the base."

"Thank you, sir."

-------------

"So, Ducky," Tony began, sliding into the seat next to the ME. "What'd you do to get that clearance?"

"Ah, Tony," Ducky smiled, "I could tell you, but then I'd have to shoot you."

Tony laughed but the chuckle died as he realized Ducky wasn't joking. "Seriously?"

"Deadly serious, I'm afraid. You know, I had a friend once -- another medical examiner -- who was granted access to the infamous Area 51. There was apparently a most mysterious death and he was quite famous for his work..."

Tony tuned out the garrulous doctor and wondered silently what more there was to Ducky.

------------

"This is so cool!" Abby squealed, eyes shining with excitement. "I don't get to do fieldwork that often."

"Yeah," Kate agreed absently, staring out the window.

"Kate? You okay? You seem a little," Abby searched for the word, "out of it."

"What? Oh, yeah, I'm fine."

Abby was unconvinced. "Grace'll be fine, Kate. She's fifteen years old. Who'd you leave her with?"

"Palmer," Kate answered doubtfully. "They're pretty good friends."

"Jimmy'll take good care of her. And you're only a phone call away."

"I know, but it doesn't really help," Kate sighed. "Too bad she had school. Her uncle lives in Colorado Springs; she could have stayed with him."

"Ooh, the hot one?" Abby grinned.

"Abby!" Kate admonished with a laugh.

------------------

"So, Grace," Jimmy started, a nervous grin plastered on his face. "What do you want for dinner?"

"Why don't you let me cook for you, Jimmy?" Grace asked sweetly, ever eager for more 'guinea pigs.'

"Okay," Jimmy agreed reluctantly. "What are you making?"

"Ah, ah! It's a surprise."


	3. Two Teams

"Whoa," Kate exclaimed softly as their escort drove through a heavily guarded checkpoint. "This place is serious."

"Yes, ma'am," the driver intoned solemnly. "The Cheyenne Mountain Complex is one of the most secure facilities in the world."

"More than Area 51?" Abby joked. The escort merely flicked his eyes to meet hers in the rearview mirror, his silence speaking volumes. Abby let out a small "wow."

"IDs," droned yet another guard along their route. Their current escort (the third) handed them over to a new camouflage-clad lad without a word.

"I'm Airman Cooper," their fresh guide said, serious but friendly. "Mike. I'll be taking you the rest of the way."

"Nice to meet you, Mike," Abby chirped enthusiastically, responding to the first display of humanity she had encountered in this place. "I'm Abby."

"Um...hello," Mike replied, slightly baffled by her exuberance. He stood blinking at Abby for a long moment before Gibbs stepped in.

"Airman!" he barked, uneasy in the highly charged environment and eager to get this strange case over with.

"Yes, sir!" Mike snapped to, turning a sharp about-face and leading them to (another!) elevator.

"Geez, how far down are we?" Tony muttered.

"Ten stories underground, so far," Mike responded without turning his head. "You're about to go down another seventeen."

The elevator opened, revealing another soldier in BDUs. This one wore a far more stern face than Mike; his severe features and intense stare were rather disconcerting. He held the door open until all five NCIS personnel, plus Mike, were inside, then pushed the button for level 27 after a fleeting visual sweep of the area.

Kate was surprised how comfortably the seven of them fit in the elevator. She didn't usually care for elevators -- though she wasn't claustrophobic, per se, she preferred open spaces -- but this one was large, more like a freight elevator than a passenger.

"Big elevator," she commented, trying to alleviate the oppressive silence.

Mike, who had been staring surreptitiously at Abby, started. "Sorry?"

"It's a big elevator," Kate repeated, gesturing to make her point.

"Oh, yeah," he agreed. "Back when the facility was a missile silo -- "

"Cooper!" the elevator guard growled.

"_That's_ public knowledge," Mike defended himself, frowning. "Anyway, this used to be a cargo elevator."

"When was the facility converted?" Ducky asked, also making conversation.

"That _is_ classified," the other airman scowled, glaring at Mike as if daring him to argue.

The elevator fell silent again, each passenger looking anywhere but at his fellow riders -- except for Gibbs and Mike. Mike was sneaking glances at Abby, a faint smile gracing his boyish features; Gibbs was staring at the elevator guard, his eyes narrowed.

"Level 27," the guard finally said, watching the team exit with something like distaste on his face. Clearly the man did not like outsiders.

"This way to the briefing room," Mike called, beckoning.

----------------

"Daniel, I have orders!" Jack exclaimed, annoyed. This was certainly not the first time he had had this argument with the scientist.

"But Jack -- " Daniel started, beginning to get a bit irked himself. He may have been working for the military for eight years, but certain aspects of the life still did not make sense to him.

"No 'buts,' Daniel," Jack warned, raising his eyebrows and pointing an admonishing finger at the younger man. Daniel's eyes crossed as he tried to focus on Jack's hand. "The President -- the President himself, Daniel! -- told me not to say anything to them that might, oh, how did he put it, 'jeopardize the secrecy of the Stargate program, and by extension the security of not only this country but the world.'" Jack's voice took on a mockingly haughty tone.

"If they don't have all the information, how can we expect them to draw valid conclusions?" Daniel argued, rubbing his forehead distractedly.

"That's not the point!" Jack all but shouted, flopping into his chair with a dramatic sigh. "For someone so smart, you sure have a hard time understanding some things."

"Yes, I do, because it doesn't make any sense," Daniel pressed. "The President can't honestly expect them to do their jobs with their eyes closed, can he?"

"Carter, help me out, please?" Jack begged, his voice muffled by his hands over his face.

Sam looked up from the report she was reviewing. Daniel and General O'Neill argued so often, and for so long, that she had learned to take advantage of the time to get some work done.

"Well, sir," she started, a bit hesitantly. "He has a point..."

"Not you, too!"

"Sir, imagine if we went through the gate without any preliminary MALP readings. We could be ambushed, or encounter an environment that wouldn't even support life. It'd be suicide," she argued rationally.

"Indeed, O'Neill," rumbled the final member of the quartet. "Is not the purpose of an investigation to gather facts? To withhold information from the investigators would be counterproductive."

"So I should just ignore my orders? Just toss them out the window?" Jack griped, in full sarcastic mode now. "Oh, wonderful! I've always wanted to be court-martialed. All those times I've come so close, now I can experience the real thing!"

"I think the risk is worth it to find a killer," Daniel said virtuously.

"Oh, please, don't give me that -- "

"Sir," Carter interrupted quickly. "You don't have to disobey orders at all."

Jack looked at her incredulously. "What?"

"The President said not to jeopardize the secrecy of the program, right?"

"Yeah..."

"We do have non-disclosure forms, sir," Carter pointed out.

"Oh, yeah, that'll go over real well," Jack rolled his eyes. "'Yes, sir, we did show them the most secret operation on earth, but it's okay! We made them promise not to tell.' I don't think so."

"O'Neill," Teal'c interjected. "Would not these forms accomplish the goal for which DanielJackson has been arguing so passionately, while also allowing you to see why, eh?"

"'See why, eh?'" Jack asked, staring at his large Jaffa friend.

"Um, CYA," Daniel explained, looking embarrassed. "He, um, must have picked it up somewhere."

"Right," Jack nodded, arching an eyebrow. "Somewhere."

"Sir, Teal'c is right," Carter steered the conversation back. "Having the forms signed in good faith gives us reason to believe that divulging certain sensitive information will have no effect on the secrecy of the program."

Jack blinked, then sighed. "Fine. Go get the forms, Carter."

-----------

Gibbs watched the people behind the glass with interest. They were apparently having a rather heated argument. The silver-haired one was obviously losing to the other three: a large man with his back to the "window" who didn't say much; a blonde woman, seated and reading something but occasionally jumping into the discussion; and a bespectacled young man with amazing pouting abilities. Finally, the older man succumbed to the others and sent the blonde out -- to get something, maybe?

"Agent Gibbs?" Gibbs and his team stood as the three men entered the room. "I'm General Jack O'Neill, this is Doctor Daniel Jackson," he gestured to the pouty man in glasses, "and this is Teal'c," he pointed out the large black man wearing a ski cap.

-------------

Kate heard the name "Jack O'Neill" and looked up sharply from fiddling absently with her nails. Sure enough, the grey-headed general welcoming the team was the same man she had met several months ago.

"Uncle Jack?" she blurted, forgetting herself in surprise. What was he doing here?

He turned to her, eyebrows knitting first in confusion and then in concentration. "...Aunt Kate?" he asked, finally connecting the dots. "What are you doing here? Is Grace okay?"

"She's...fine," Kate replied, still trying to wrap her head around this -- a task made more difficult by the song 'It's a Small World' running through her head.

"You two know each other?" Gibbs interrupted gruffly, unhappy with the unprofessional turn the conversation had taken.

"Gibbs," Kate explained, "General O'Neill is Grace's uncle."

--------------

"Well, since you already know Kate, General," Gibbs steered the conversation back to the investigation. "This is Special Agent Tony DiNozzo, Dr. Mallard, and Abby Sciuto."

Jack nodded to each of them, giving Kate one last look of bewilderment, before shaking his head to clear it, pulling out his chair and sitting heavily. Everyone followed suit, causing a short period of noisy settling.

"Colonel Carter's just gone to get some forms for you folks to sign," Jack explained. "I'll just let you know now: if you don't sign them, you might as well go home."

"What sort of forms?" Gibbs asked suspiciously.

"Non-disclosure agreements," Jack replied easily. "You're sitting in one of the most secret facilities in the world. We just want to make sure you don't go telling anyone what you've seen here."

"My team are hardly tattletales, General," Gibbs said, his eyes and his tone not smiling despite the slight upturn at the corners of his mouth.

"I didn't say they were," Jack responded, his voice saying that he, too, was not pleased with the situation.

"I'm sure you won't mind if we actually read these forms before we sign them," Agent Gibbs snapped, his patience clearly wearing thin.

"Look, Agent Gibbs," Jack barked. "We're doing you a favor. If you don't sign these forms, we can tell you nothing. Now, do you want to investigate this or not?"

"Here they are, sir," Carter announced, arriving to smoldering glares between the two leaders. She glanced at Daniel for an explanation but he just shook his head slightly. Deciding to ask Teal'c later, she gave a form to each NCIS team member.

"Please initial after each statement to indicate your understanding and acceptance of the terms, then sign and date at the end," Carter recited.

Jack scowled as Agent Gibbs, after giving Jack a pointed look, pulled out a pair of reading glasses and read the whole thing. When he finally signed the dotted line -- with a bit too much flourish, Jack thought -- he looked up, scrutinizing SG-1 and the general.

"I want an explanation."


	4. Explanations

"Fair enough," Jack replied, scowling slightly. He was still uncomfortable with bucking such a direct order, but if Carter was sure... "Daniel, why don't you start."

Daniel started slightly at his name; he had been staring at the tabletop, lost in thought. "Right," he replied, clearing his throat. "In 1928, an archaeologist by the name of Langford made an extraordinary discovery in Giza."

"That's where the pyramids are," Jack interjected, mockingly condescending.

"Yes," Daniel acknowledged, throwing Jack a look. Jack shrugged and Daniel continued, rolling his eyes. "As I was saying, this discovery was exceptional. An enormous stone-like ring, large crystals placed at even intervals around it, with hieroglyph-like carvings covering one side -- it was unlike anything anyone had ever seen." Daniel's eyes were taking on the passionate sheen they developed whenever he was really getting into his subject and Jack decided to take action before they got stuck in an uber-boring archaeology lecture.

"Yes, well," he broke in, much to Daniel's annoyance, "it was really weird and noone knew what it was. Fast forward 70 years --"

"Actually, it was more like 65," Daniel corrected without blinking.

"-- 65 years," Jack continued, not missing a beat, "when Danny here comes on the scene. Apparently he's really good at translating hieroglyphics, not to mention the fact that he's just trashed his academic career by saying that aliens built the pyramids --"

"I never actually said that," Daniel interrupted again. "All I said was --"

"Daniel! Not important!" Jack stopped him. "So Dr. Langford's daughter, Dr. Langford, recruits him to translate the glyphs on the thing. Ah, but they stump even the great Dr. Jackson." Jack was warming to the tale. "Until he realizes one night that they're not hieroglyphics! They're, get this, constellations."

Sam figured that the general in full story-telling mode was little better than Daniel, so she took up the narrative. "Daniel realized that the ring, actually called a stargate based on a tablet uncovered nearby, could be dialed like a telephone. Seven glyphs are needed to dial; six to locate a point in a three-dimensional space and one to serve as a point of origin."

"So, what does it do?" Agent DiNozzo asked.

"Ah..."

"Well..."

"That's the thing..."

"The Stargate establishes a wormhole to distant planets." Trust Teal'c to be so blunt, without even batting an eye at the information that everyone else found so incredible.

------------------

There was a moment of stunned silence in which the NCIS team digested the revelation and the SGC personnel tried to gauge their reactions. Daniel was scrutinizing the table determinedly, twiddling his thumbs while he waited for the usual expressions of disbelief. Carter wore a faint smile that was probably intended to make her seem more trustworthy; Teal'c simply sat as he had been, eyebrow slightly up in amusement more than anything else. Jack stared directly at Gibbs, waiting for his response. Suddenly:

"I knew it!" Abby burst out excitedly. "There really are aliens out there!"

"Aliens are a bit of a stretch," Kate countered, keeping her tone friendly. "I mean, just because we can go to other planets," she laughed nervously, "doesn't mean there are aliens there."

"Who do you think built the things, Kate?" Gibbs asked quietly, not taking his eyes off Jack. The two seemed to be engaged in some sort of silent battle of the wills, though what the stakes were was anyone's guess.

Kate blinked and fell silent, pondering. Tony, brow furrowed, spoke up next.

"You're telling us there really are UFOs out there?"

"Well, I don't know about UFOs," Daniel replied didactically. "We usually identify them rather quickly; not too many of them fly; and they're people, not objects. But, yes, they are 'out there.'"

"Forget 'out there,'" Jack scoffed. "Teal'c, take off your hat."

The large man obliged, pulling off the black ski cap to reveal his golden tattoo. Kate gasped softly, Tony blinked several times, and Abby's eyes widened in fascination. Gibbs merely raised an eyebrow and Ducky -- well, Ducky was Ducky.

"How extraordinary," he breathed, leaning forward. "I suppose molten gold is poured into a fresh cut? Likely a ceremonial knife is used; it would seem to be quite an occasion. Was it some type of rite of passage? Many African tribes similarly mark their adolescent boys as a symbol of manhood --"

"Duck," Gibbs stopped the doctor before he could really get going.

"Oh. Yes. My apologies."

"No problem, Dr. Mallard," Jack smiled. "At least your stories are interesting."

"Hey!"

"Did I say your name, Daniel?"

"Um, can I ask a question?" Tony broke in, raising his hand slightly as if in a classroom.

"That's what you're here to do," Jack answered. "Fire away."

"Well, all this is really interesting," Tony started hesitantly, "but what exactly does it have to do with the case? We were told a Marine was murdered."

"An excellent question," Jack crowed, stabbing a finger at Tony. "Daniel, I would _love_ to hear your answer."

Gibbs frowned slightly, wondering at the background of the loaded comment. Perhaps it had to do with their earlier argument?

"Well," Daniel explained, "it doesn't pertain directly to your case, at least as far as we know. But we," he threw a look at Jack, "felt that you would be better off knowing the whole picture from the beginning. Sort of, ah, contextual evidence, you might say."

Jack snorted. "'Contextual evidence'...leave it to a linguist..." he muttered under his breath.

Gibbs' frown deepened. A government agency -- and one with an enormous secret, at that -- willing to put all the cards on the table from the get-go? It was unusual, to say the least.

"So," Jack exclaimed, clapping his hands on the table and standing. "Ready to do your thing?"

Abby stifled a grin, sneaking a look at Gibbs before commenting wryly, "Take me to your crime scene."


	5. Crime Scene Investigation

"Welcome to level 14, ladies and gentlemen," Jack narrated with gusto. "The next stop on our tour will be the west elevator, site of many a fascinating cargo transfer and, oh, a little crime scene. And we're walking..."

Gibbs scowled at the general's carefree attitude, wondering how a man with such apparent disregard for -- convention, anyway, if not regulation -- had garnered such a high position. Most posts of this type were political appointments but Jack O'Neill was anything but a political, if Gibbs was any judge of character.

"And here we are!" Jack called chirpily, waving the straggling team over. "Agent Gibbs, he's all yours."

"Duck," Gibbs directed, nodding towards the body in the elevator. "Kate, photos and sketches. Tony, bag and tag."

"Hey, Gibbs!" a cheerful voice spoke up. "You forgetting someone?"

"No, Abs," Gibbs smiled. "General!" Jack stepped forward from where he had been watching the proceedings with SG-1. "General, do you have a laboratory facility for Ms. Sciuto to set up shop?"

"Carter!"

"Yes, sir?"

"Show Ms. Sciuto your lab," Jack ordered evenly. "She'll be moving in with you for a while."

"Yes, sir," Sam nodded. She smiled at Abby. "Follow me."

"Awesome!" Abby enthused. "So what do you do?"

"I'm a theoretical astrophysicist..."

As their voices faded down the hall, Gibbs turned back to Ducky.

"Time of death?"

"Within the last 24 hours," Ducky sighed, heaving himself up from the crouched position he was in.

"Killed in the elevator?"

"Oh, yes. There's far too much blood spatter for this too be a secondary site," Ducky crouched closer to the body, examining small details.

"Cause?"

"You know better than that, Jethro," Ducky admonished. "I won't know anything for sure until I get him on the table. However, based on the most immediate evidence, a preliminary conclusion of gunshot wound to the back of the head seems reasonable." Pointing with a gloved hand, Ducky murmured, "The hair is singed; the weapon was at point-blank range. You know," he looked up with his patented 'story time' expression, "this reminds me altogether too much of a case I once worked in the Middle East. Yes, that young man had incurred the wrath of a local chieftain --"

"Duck!" Gibbs cut him off. "Bottom line."

"Jethro," Ducky grew serious, "this was an execution."

There was a pause as everyone considered the implications of the statement. Daniel coughed slightly and Jack frowned along with Gibbs. Kate winced as she snapped photos, the click of the shutter suddenly deafening in the heavy silence.

"Boss!" Tony called, breaking the moment. "I've got the bullet." All eyes were on Tony as he gently extracted the slug from the wall of the elevator. The hole was maybe six inches off the floor, Gibbs noted, and extremely deep. Tony could only barely grip it with the tweezers.

"Looks like a nine-mil," Tony commented, dropping the bloody and distorted bullet into an evidence bag.

"Get it to Abby," Gibbs ordered.

"Right. Um," Tony looked around, "where would that be, exactly?"

"I will take you to ColonelCarter's laboratory, AgentDiNozzo," Teal'c offered, turning and striding down a corridor. Tony, slightly apprehensive, jogged after the big man.

"Kate, you done?"

"Yeah," she answered, snapping off one last photo.

"Duck?"

"Indeed, Jethro. It's time for us to make this poor man more comfortable."

"You folks need some wheels?" Jack asked, rolling a stretcher into view. He grinned at the surprised look on Kate and Ducky's faces, though Gibbs' knowing smile was a disappointing reaction. That man seemed to have two expressions: omniscient or pissed.

-----------------

"So," Tony panted between breaths, "your name is...?"

"Teal'c."

"Teal'c," Tony tried. It wasn't that hard to say, really, just unusual. _Well, duh, DiNozzo_, he chided himself. _The guy's an _alien. "You, um, you look really...human...for an...alien..." Tony stopped, kicking himself mentally.

"Indeed. My people were originally taken from among the Tau'ri and genetically engineered to be enslaved by the goa'uld." Teal'c didn't even break stride.

Tony stopped briefly in the hallway, staring at the large alien with his jaw working overtime. After a few seconds of no words coming out, though, he ran to catch up with Teal'c, head shaking in disbelief.

"No _way_!" A familiar voice suddenly squealed. Tony sighed in relief; they had arrived.

"I'm serious," replied the less-familiar voice of Colonel Carter. Tony grinned. Less familiar now, perhaps, but he would like to make it a lot more familiar... "We had no choice, really. Apophis was on his way and we had to ensure Tanith couldn't get him the information. I mean, what could we have done?"

Tony and Teal'c entered Carter's lab and found Abby staring -- not quite open-mouthed, but close -- as Sam recounted her fantastic tale.

"Tony!" Abby greeted enthusiastically when she caught sight of him. "You won't believe some of the stuff these guys have done! Sam blew up a sun!"

"Impressive," Tony raised an eyebrow, turning to Sam and switching on the charm.

Sam rolled her eyes. _Not another one..._ "Did you need something?" she asked, not unfriendly but certainly businesslike.

"Yeah, just brought this bullet down to Abby," he smiled, tossing the bag vaguely in Abby's direction. She caught it, barely, and shook her head at Tony's behavior. "So, you blew up a sun, hm?"

-----------------

"Agent Todd," Daniel called softly. Kate turned around. "I can show you where to set up a dark room."

"Oh, that'd be great," Kate answered, grabbing the camera and following him.

"So," he started, after a few moments of walking in silence. "You're Grace's mother?"

"Um, yes," Kate answered, surprised. "You know, I didn't figure General O'Neill for one to talk much about his family."

"Oh, he's not," Daniel assured her. "But when he was gone for a month on 'personal business'...well, we managed to get it out of him. You must understand, Jack doesn't often take leave -- and when he does, it's invariably to go fishing in Minnesota. When he said he was going to Maryland and wouldn't tell us why, we knew something was up."

"Your team seems very close to the general," Kate commented.

"Well, he used to be our commander," Daniel explained. "We were all SG-1 for seven years. Jack's only been the general for a little over a year."

"I see," Kate nodded, slightly envious. Seven years as a team? She could hardly imagine.

-----------------

"Jethro, could you help me with him?" Ducky grunted, struggling with the heavy colonel.

"Dr. Mallard, let me," Jack offered, taking Ducky's place at the corpse's head while Gibbs handled the feet. Gibbs gave him a look that, to Jack's great surprise, might have been gratitude.

"Thank you, General," Ducky said, moving out of the elevator so he could direct the two men. "All right, just roll him over carefully..."

Jack, gripping the shoulders, slowly maneuvered the colonel's torso while Gibbs gently tugged on his legs. They were trying to get him on his back so that he would be more easily transferable to the stretcher. About halfway to their goal, Jack suddenly jumped backwards, releasing his hold on the colonel's shoulders.

"Holy --" he exclaimed loudly. "That's...disturbing."

"Indeed," Ducky agreed. Jack blinked; it sounded so weird coming from anyone but his Jaffa. "The bullet apparently lost enough velocity to leave a rather large exit wound."

"Ya think?" Jack retorted sarcastically. "The man has no face."

"If you need to leave..." Gibbs suggested.

"I'm fine," Jack groused, bothered that Gibbs thought he was that green. "Just startled me. You telling me you're used to seeing faceless corpses?"

Gibbs did not respond, except to take hold of the legs again and stare pointedly at Jack. Jack shook his head and grabbed the shoulders again. This Gibbs was a piece of work...and yet, Jack couldn't help respecting him just a little. He obviously cared about his team; he just wasn't very expressive about it.


	6. Conversations

"Agent Todd!" Jack called, upping his pace to catch her.

Kate turned at the sound of her name, startled. This place was intimidating, to say the least. She had been stopped three times already, and respectfully told that she was not allowed in certain areas of the base. She was used to classified information, of course, but to see it up close was unnerving.

"General!" she greeted nervously. "I'm sorry; is this area off-limits? I was just trying to find Colonel Carter's lab."

"No, no, you're fine," Jack reassured her as he caught up and began walking with her. "And it's Jack. I get enough rank crap from subordinates; you and me are practically related."

Kate laughed nervously. So that's what he wanted to talk about: Grace.

"What would that make us?" she asked, trying to humor him. "If you're my daughter's uncle..."

"Your brother," he deadpanned, highly amused at the brief, shocked widening of her eyes. "But," he saved her with a wave of his hand, "genetics was never my strong suit."

"I suppose you want to ask about Grace," Kate said suddenly. Nerves were making her jumpy; Jack O'Neill wasn't exactly the most unintimidating man in the world, himself.

"Well," he stalled, surprised by her sudden pronouncement, "the thought had crossed my mind."

"She's staying with a friend," she assured him. "Well, a coworker. But I trust him."

"Him?" Jack raised his eyebrows.

"Jimmy Palmer," she supplied. "You can look him up if you want. He's Ducky's assistant, a really sweet young man, and Grace likes him. Not like that!" she added hurriedly after seeing his worried expression. "They're just friends. I wasn't about to leave her with someone she didn't know."

Jack nodded reluctantly, still squinting slightly. "...Good."

"I'm as unhappy with the situation as you, trust me," Kate sympathized.

"Grace talks about you all the time," Jack began after a pause. "She thinks you're 'awesome.'" Jack framed the word with quote fingers.

"I think she's...awesome, too," Kate responded confusedly. Where was this going?

"For what it's worth," Jack said hesitantly, clearing his throat uncomfortably, "I think...you two are good for each other."

Kate recognized the compliment for what it was and smiled in thanks.

"Oh," he called over his shoulder as he left, "Carter's lab is two floors up."

-----------

"You want to play a game?" Jimmy asked nervously. He was friends with Grace, yes, but this was her turf and that changed the dynamics.

"Sure," Grace grinned mischievously. "How about Truth or Dare?"

"Okay," he agreed reluctantly.

"You first."

"Uh, truth," he selected.

"If you could pick one person to be stranded on a desert island with, who would it be?"

Jimmy turned beet-red as he shyly whispered, "Abby. See, I kind of like her..."

Grace raised an eyebrow. "I should make you go again," she sighed playfully.

"What? Why? Did I do something wrong?" Jimmy asked in alarm.

"You're supposed to tell me something I don't know."

"What -- oh," he grinned embarrassedly. "Is it that obvious?"

Grace patted his arm sympathetically. "Yeah. But it's sweet."

----------

"Kate!" Tony yelled, sprinting down a hallway to catch his colleague. "Kate, wait up!"

_Why is everyone so eager to talk to me today?_ she wondered briefly. "What is it, Tony?" she asked aloud, not altering her pace.

"Where you going?" he inquired, not answering her question as he fell into stride with her.

"I'm looking for Abby," she explained. "She wasn't in Colonel Carter's lab."

"You know, that Colonel Carter's pretty hot," Tony mused, with his typical habit of turning any conversation to beautiful women.

Kate rolled her eyes. "You are unbelievable. And so out of your league."

"Whaddaya mean? You think military women are immune to the DiNozzo charm?" Tony grinned.

"Oh, no, Tony," Kate rejoined sarcastically. "I wouldn't dream of insinuating _that_."

"So, you think she'd go out with me?"

"I think General O'Neill would kick you into next year if you asked," Kate replied easily.

Tony had the good grace to look surprised. "What? What's that supposed to mean?"

Kate finally turned to look at him, smiling gloatingly. "According to Grace, the general and the colonel have been something of an item for years."

"Uh, Kate," Tony interrupted, smirking, "I hate to burst your bubble, here, but regs --"

"Thank you, Tony," Kate sneered. "You know, working for the navy for three years I hadn't picked up on that subtle rule. I mean, it's not like we encounter it on every case we work. And here I was, wondering why on earth they weren't already married with kids on the way..."

"Okay, I get it," Tony stopped her. "Sheesh. Still, maybe she's not feeling very exclusive..."

"You're forgetting the general," Kate reminded him, stepping into the elevator. He followed with a scowl.

"He's Air Force," he shrugged, "I could take him."

Kate snickered. "I would so love to see that."

"What, you don't think I could?"

"Tony, the man was in the Special Forces for who-knows-how-many years," Kate reasoned. "He'd probably beat Gibbs in a fight."

Tony snorted. "Now that _I'd_ love to see."

-------------

"Hey, Daniel," Sam greeted distractedly, fiddling with a device that was spread over most of the available surface area in her lab. That surface area had been significantly reduced, not only by her various gadgets and doohickeys but by the added bulk of Abby's lab equipment.

"Hi," Daniel returned. "What's up?"

"Just trying to repair this thing," she explained, rather unhelpfully.

"Oh." Daniel cleared his throat. "So, what do you make of Colonel Havelock's murder?"

"Well, it's certainly unfortunate," Sam acknowledged, putting down her tools and looking at Daniel. "I can't say I knew him too well, but he seemed like a nice enough guy."

"You worried at all?" Daniel asked, forehead puckering in pensiveness. "I mean, that whoever killed him might come after someone else?"

"Of course," Sam admitted. "But I guess that's why NCIS is here."

"Yeah," Daniel mused. "An interesting group..."

Sam grunted in agreement, already re-engrossed in her work. Daniel, however, was not finished.

"You know, they took our explanation really well," he fretted. "A lot better than most people."

"I think they're in shock," Sam opined. "Well, except Abby. But she believed most of it before she even met us. And that Gibbs character -- the general said he was a Marine, right?"

Daniel chuckled. "You know, he reminds me of Jack when I first met him."

"Really?" Sam raised her eyebrows with a small grin. "Wow. And here I thought he'd been born sarcastic."


	7. Commonalities

"Dr. Jackson," Ducky looked up at Daniel, "would you care to assist me?"

Daniel's eyebrows jumped in surprise. He had been hanging out in the infirmary, watching Ducky prepare Colonel Havelock's body and asking questions here and there. The pathologist seemed willing enough to indulge his curiosity, but Daniel noted the tiniest irritation in the doctor's question.

"I, um," Daniel stammered. "Sure. I mean, if it's not a...problem...or anything..." Daniel wondered how he could be proficient in so many languages and yet had such difficulty expressing himself in his mother tongue.

"On the contrary," Ducky assured him, relieved that if Daniel was going to be hovering over his shoulder asking questions, at least he would be doing something useful. "My usual assistant was unable to accompany us on this trip, due of course to the security level. The boy's a good worker but he does need considerably more experience and, perhaps, an occasional dose of phosphaditylserine."

Daniel chuckled. "I know the type. Remind me to introduce you to Jay Felger sometime."

"Felger?" Ducky asked. "I once knew a -- pass me the scalpel, please -- Felger. Yes, Hans Felger. A German fellow I met in Tripoli, oh, many, many years ago. Rib cutters, please -- that's the pruning shears. Thank you. Where was I? Oh, yes, Hans. We met in Tripoli in the early '70s. He was quite the character, Hans. Had an enormous mustache that he waxed obsessively, and he was always chewing a cigar. Never lit it, just chewed it until it was nothing more than a stub. Enterotome."

"I'm sorry?" Daniel had been caught up in the story.

"Enterotome," Ducky requested again, pointing. "They're the strange-looking scissors."

"Ah," Daniel realized, picking up the disturbingly shaped instrument and handing it to Ducky. "So, what were you doing in Tripoli?"

Ducky glanced at him with a small, crooked grin but didn't answer. Daniel raised his eyebrows and blinked in surprise. This man had quite the background, apparently.

"Ever been to Egypt?" Daniel asked after a long silence, trying to make conversation.

"Oh, many times," Ducky answered casually. "In fact, on my last visit I encountered a most fascinating case that still puzzles me. An archaeologist had been found dead inside a pyramid -- something not altogether uncommon -- with no immediately apparent cause of death. Again, not terribly uncommon. Could you bring that scale over here, please? Thank you. However, during the autopsy, we discovered a small wound on the back of his neck that had not yet healed. It was nowhere near large enough for him to have bled out, so we investigated further and found that his spinal cord had been severely damaged just as it joined the brain stem."

Daniel gawked at the ME, who was continuing with the autopsy as if he'd said nothing odd. Clearing his throat, the archaeologist managed, "That's...unusual."

"Indeed. Perhaps the strangest part, though, was what the tox screen returned. There was an unidentified mineral present in trace amounts, and concentrated around the damaged area of the spine."

"Hmm," Daniel returned vaguely, for once in his life at a loss for words. Nervously, he tried to think of a way out of this conversation. Telling this team about the Stargate was one thing, but the goa'uld...where would he begin, for one thing?

"Would you mind taking this to Abby?" Ducky asked, oblivious to Daniel's inner struggle. "I believe she's in your Colonel Carter's laboratory."

"Um, sure," Daniel replied, grateful for the escape. Uncertainly, he took the jar Ducky was holding out and examined it. "What is it?"

"Stomach contents," Ducky answered easily, already back at work on the body.

"Oh," Daniel grimaced. "Of course."

--------------

"What is it you are attempting to accomplish, AbbySciuto?" Teal'c rumbled, curiously observing Abby at work.

"I'm trying to find an outlet for my stereo," she explained, frowning slightly as she searched the walls. "Oh, here's one!"

Suddenly, an extraordinarily loud noise burst from the small, black box. Teal'c raised both his eyebrows for a change, a sure sign that he was baffled by this strange Tau'ri custom -- or deafened.

Abby grinned as Teal'c cocked his head puzzledly. "You like it?" she bellowed over the sound.

"It is most intriguing," he replied vaguely. Her grin widened and she bobbed her head with the music as she began running various tests. Concentrating on the bullet rifling under her microscope, she missed his question the first time.

"What?" she called, adjusting the volume dial a fraction of a point. Teal'c detected no difference in the decibel level.

"Does not this noise interfere with your work?" he asked. He knew that DanielJackson liked to work in extreme quiet and while ColonelCarter occasionally played light, instrumental music, she, too, disliked loud distractions while she was working.

"No, it helps me concentrate," Abby answered, cranking it back up and singing along. Teal'c considered her response before raising an eyebrow again and moving his head ever so slightly with the beat of the drums -- the only distinguishable instrument in the mix.

"Teal'c!" Daniel yelled, making his way into the room with his hands over his ears. One hand, anyway. The other held a jar as far away from his body as possible. "What's going on?"

"AbbySciuto is examining the projectile extracted from the wall of the elevator," Teal'c explained, raising his voice but not screaming.

"I meant, what's all the noise?"

"It is music, DanielJackson," Teal'c answered with his usual that-should-be-obvious tone.

"Ah," Daniel nodded, knitting his eyebrows and shaking his head to clear it. "Music. Of course. Ms. Sciuto!" he called. When she didn't answer, he moved closer and tapped her on the shoulder.

"Aah!" she cried out, spinning around with impressive speed and raising her hands in an attack position.

"Aah!" Daniel echoed, raising his own hands in a gesture of surrender. "Sorry, I --"

"Ooh, stomach contents!" Abby crowed, reaching up to take the jar from his hand.

"AbbySciuto, do you believe ColonelHavelock may have swallowed something pertinent to his murder?" Teal'c asked, raising an eyebrow curiously.

"Maybe," she shrugged. "We have to check everything. You never know what might be a clue."

"I see. As when Jaffa investigate the ha'tak of a rival system lord, one can never be certain of what is a trap and what is only an illusion." Teal'c smiled, satisfied in his understanding.

"Exactly!" Abby nodded eagerly, catching his meaning if not the details of his analogy.

"Hey, Abby!" a new voice called, as Tony ducked into the room. "Oh hi, Dr. Jackson, Teal'c." They nodded in greeting. "Abby, Gibbs wants your progress on the bullet."

"I was just working on that," she said, putting down the jar of stomach contents and dashing to the computer. "The good news is, it was really easy to identify. The bad news is, you were right."

"That's a bad thing?" Tony joked.

"Why is that bad?" Daniel asked at the same time. They shared a look that, to Abby, appeared to be a mutual sizing-up.

"Tony guessed it was a nine-millimeter," Abby explained. "From what I've seen so far, every airman and marine in this mountain carries one."

"Oh," Daniel frowned. "That does make it difficult."

"Yeah," Abby agreed.

"How, then, will you identify this weapon?" Teal'c asked. Abby answered cheerfully, happy to have someone interested in her work.

"Well, once we get a suspect," she started, "we take their gun and fire a couple of bullets from it. Then we compare the rifling on those bullets to the rifling on the one we found in the elevator. Rifling is like a fingerprint; each weapon has a unique pattern."

"I see," Teal'c nodded. Watching her carefully place a sample of the stomach contents in a new machine, he asked, "What is the function of this device?"

"Abby's our resident genius," Tony bragged quietly to Daniel as Abby enthusiastically described her toys to Teal'c.

"Hmm," Daniel acknowledged, not wanting to be rude.

"I guess your Colonel Carter's pretty smart, too," Tony continued.

Daniel raised an eyebrow. "That's, ah, a bit of an understatement."

"She attached?" Tony asked casually, pretending to watch Abby and Teal'c with great interest.

Daniel's forehead furrowed as he turned to take in this brash stranger. "Not...per se," he answered guardedly.

"Just wondering, man," Tony shrugged with a disarming grin. "But you gotta admit, she is pretty hot."

Daniel blinked rapidly and was reminded very strongly of the time he'd told Jack that he wouldn't let Jack anywhere near his sister, if he'd had one. Sam was probably the closest thing he had to a sister and while he knew she was good-looking, it was in a very cerebral, detached way. To hear another man say so with the tone Tony was using was...disturbing.

"I'd stay away from her if I were you," Daniel warned, keeping his tone friendly.

"Yeah, I heard she's got something going with the general," Tony replied, apparently unconcerned about that fact.

"It's not that," Daniel scowled. "She's got quite a few men here who think of her as a sister...including Teal'c." Daniel smiled with satisfaction at the look on Tony's face as the Italian glanced at the Jaffa's solid bulk.

-------------

"General, I need the members of Colonel Havelock's team isolated before I question them," Gibbs asserted brusquely. "And the airmen who found the body."

"Yah, sure, you betcha," Jack grinned. At Gibbs' less-than-amused expression, he sighed and rolled his eyes. "That is," he corrected, mock-cheerfully, "we certainly have enough isolation chambers for five men. The briefing room is available for interviews, offering a lovely view to the gateroom, and of course my own door is always open." Jack finished with a cheesy smile.

"Thanks," Gibbs said tersely.

"You're very welcome," Jack continued in his tour-guide voice. "Do you require anything else?"

"Coffee," Gibbs muttered.

"Ah," Jack sighed, back to his normal voice. "For that, you will have to see Daniel."


	8. Interviews

"Lieutenant Cook," Gibbs began, sipping his coffee nonchalantly and perusing the file in front of him. "You were Colonel Havelock's second-in-command."

"Yes, sir," the lieutenant answered. He sat across the table from Gibbs in the briefing room, fidgeting slightly despite an obvious effort to keep calm.

"It says here you only transferred into the unit last month," Gibbs noted.

"Uh, yes, sir," Cook replied hesitantly after Gibbs said nothing more.

"In fact, the whole unit was brand new to Colonel Havelock's command."

"That's correct, sir," Cook confirmed, his discomfort growing steadily.

"Is that unusual?" Gibbs asked, his first real question of the interview.

"Very, sir," Lieutenant Cook answered. "Most of the time, teams are changed out one member at a time over several years. With the exception of SG-1," he scowled slightly, "no one group of people have remained an SG team for more than two years."

"So what was different about you four?" Gibbs pressed, calmly taking a drag of coffee.

---------------

"Well, Colonel Havelock was pretty new to the program, sir," Staff Sergeant Lopez explained, mumbling slightly in his nervousness. "After Colonel Reynolds got transferred, they wanted to bring in some fresh blood or something. Colonel Havelock was just coming off a command in Iraq. General O'Neill said his fit-reps were all outstanding and he had good command experience, so he brought him in."

"You weren't the first Stargate team the colonel commanded," Gibbs prompted.

"No, sir," the sergeant agreed, eyes flashing. "Colonel Havelock's original team was ambushed their second time through the gate. The whole team was killed except for the colonel and his first sergeant."

"What happened to the first sergeant?" Gibbs asked.

"Sir?"

"He's not on the team anymore."

"I don't know, sir," Lopez admitted. "When they brought us in, they only told us about the ambush."

"What was Colonel Havelock like?" Gibbs changed tack.

---------------

"He was a good leader, sir," Lieutenant Cook asserted loyally. "He knew how to inspire his men in the field."

"What about off the field?" Gibbs queried insightfully.

"Well, sir," the lieutenant shrugged, "the colonel was one of those guys with the theory that to be a good leader, you have to keep a distance from your men. Truthfully, sir, we didn't see him much except for missions."

"So you didn't know him except as your colonel."

"Yes, sir. He was a good Marine, though. I don't know what happened on that ambush, but our team never saw a fight we didn't win. And the colonel sure wasn't afraid of 'em. Fights, I mean. We even called him 'Jack the Jaffa-Slayer' sometimes," Cookmiled sadly. "Not to his face, of course."

"Of course," Gibbs agreed with a slight comradely smile. "When's the last time you saw the colonel?"

----------------

"Just after the mission to P3X-389," Corporal Lee gulped, eyes wide as he watched Gibbs slurp his coffee. "After our post-mission checkup, the colonel took off."

"Where to?"

"He didn't say, sir," the corporal stated, as if that should have been obvious. "But I guess I assumed to take a shower. We got pretty dirty in a scuffle with some Jaffa."

"How would he have gotten to the locker room from the infirmary?" Gibbs asked vaguely, feigning doodles on his notepad.

Lee's brow furrowed at the question. "I don't under--"

"It's a simple question, Corporal," Gibbs interrupted easily, his flinty eyes belying his friendly smile.

"Well, sir," Corporal Lee frowned, thinking, "the fastest way would be to go down corridor F, take the west elevator up three levels, and then it's a straight shot along corridor H."

"What time did you return from," Gibbs paused, peering at his notes, "P3X-389?" The fact that he had only found out about interplanetary travel in the last two hours did not show at all in his expression.

"Yesterday at 0913, Rocky Mountain Time, sir."

"That's very precise," Gibbs noted.

"A Marine should always be precise, sir!" Lee sounded off.

"Hoorah," Gibbs agreed softly.

-----------

"Isn't he being a little too friendly?" Daniel asked, peering through the glass that separated Jack's office from the briefing room.

"He's making them comfortable," Tony explained, "so they'll open up more. During an interrogation -- that's when he gets nasty." Tony grinned.

"I see," Daniel frowned, clearly not.

Tony sighed. "You ever hear the expression, 'You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar'? This is the honey stage. Once Gibbs catches the flies, he gets out the fly-swatter."

"Ah." Daniel was beginning to understand, though Tony's imagery was...unusual. "So, at this point, he's trying to...what?"

"Right now, he's just getting a feel for the colonel," Tony lectured, relishing the opportunity to play teacher. "If he's not the kind of guy who has a lot of enemies, it makes our job that much easier."

"And if he is?"

"If he is," Tony shrugged, "we cancel our weekend plans."

-----------

"As Colonel Havelock's CO," Gibbs growled, trying to ignore the way Jack twiddling a pen back and forth in his hands, "do you know of anyone who would want to kill him?"

"If I knew that, Agent Gibbs," Jack replied lightly, "I wouldn't have had to call you in."

"General --" Gibbs began, the barely restrained frustration evident in his voice.

"Gibbs, please," Jack insisted, "it's Jack. Or, at the very least, O'Neill."

"Okay, _Jack_," Gibbs continued, mentally adding a three-letter suffix to the name, "I'm running an investigation here. If you want my help, you will cooperate without any more unnecessary comments. If not..." Gibbs smiled mirthlessly, "well, let's just say that's not an option any more."

Jack raised an eyebrow in a fair imitation of Teal'c before shrugging and nodding in agreement. "Okay, no more jokes. So, what was your question?"


	9. Suspect

"Gibbs?" Kate called, knocking softly on Jack's door.

Jack waved her in with a smile, his welcoming expression countering Gibbs' terse, "What?"

"We've located the first sergeant from Colonel Havelock's first SG team," she informed him, tapping her PDA to pull up more information. "David Leaven, 38, lives in Denver. He works in the shipping department of a large manufacturer but there are some problems with his income. Abby's working on it. With Colonel Carter," she added quickly, with a glance at Jack. He widened his eyes and tilted his head slightly, as if to say, "I'm not sure what you're talking about but if Carter's on it, it must be okay."

"Can you bring him in?" Gibbs asked Jack. "Or should I?"

"I think we can take care of it, thanks," Jack replied, picking up the phone. Kate was surprised at the give-and-take; the two seemed to be getting on better than she had thought they would.

"Kate, take me to Abby," Gibbs ordered, standing.

"So does this mean the interview's over?" Jack called after him. There was no reply. "Guess so."

----------------

"Abs!" Gibbs shouted over the music. Five heads, eagerly bent over a computer screen, failed to notice him. He strode to the stereo and unplugged it roughly.

"Hey!" Abby called, still not turning. "Gibbs! How many times have I told you not to mess with the music?"

"What kind of 'problems with his income' are we talking about, Abby?" Gibbs demanded, the slight twitch of his lips tempering his comment.

"Well, the guy's basically a glorified bag-boy," Abby explained, switching gears seamlessly. "And his retirement isn't that great, either. But he rents a two-thousand-dollar-a-month apartment and he just bought a Porsche."

"Which is not cheap," Tony jumped in. To his disappointment, no one so much as looked at him.

"Drugs?" Gibbs asked.

"It's possible," Abby conceded, "but we don't think so. Sam and I have been checking his financial records for the past three months. The first month is pretty boring; he was still with the SGC and apparently didn't have much time for anything else. But after the ambush, he retired and things get a lot more interesting."

"A week after he quit the SGC," Sam picked up the thread, "he made a $50,000 deposit. Two days after that, another fifty grand came in. Bank security picked up on it and started watching his account, but after that things dropped back to what you would expect from a guy in his position. A paycheck here and there but nothing significant."

"At least, not in his regular account," Abby jumped in. "We did a bit of hacking and found an off-shore account that got irregular deposits in the hundreds of thousands. Each time, there was a smaller deposit a couple of days before the big one."

They gave Gibbs a moment to digest this before Abby gave him a huge grin.

"You want to hear the best part?"

"I always do," he smiled indulgently.

"Dr. Jackson apparently has a photographic memory," Abby began, enjoying Daniel's embarrassment. "Well, not exactly photographic, because there's really no such thing --"

"Abby! The point!" Gibbs barked.

"Okay, okay, no 'Fun Facts to Know and Share,'" Abby surrendered. "Anyway, Daniel looked at the dates of the deposits and thought they looked familiar. How in the world he remembered this is beyond me --"

"Colonel Carter," Gibbs interrupted Abby, "can _you_ take a less roundabout way to the point?"

"I'll try," Sam laughed. "Daniel realized that each deposit corresponded with a murder, the smaller deposits shortly before and the large ones shortly after."

"How did you remember that?" Kate asked in shock, staring at Daniel.

"Well, they were _murders_," he pointed out. "They stick in the memory."

"Never mind _how_," Gibbs scowled. "Are you saying --"

"ColonelCarter and AbbySciuto believe that FirstSergeantLeaven may be a warrior of wealth," Teal'c summarized. There was an awkward silence as everyone turned to look at him confusedly.

"I, uh," Daniel stammered, "I think you mean 'soldier of fortune,' Teal'c."

-----------------

"Jimmy!" Grace called, holding her hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. "Uncle Jack wants to talk to you!"

"M-me?" he stuttered, taking the handset automatically. She smiled reassuringly as he slowly lifted it to his ear. "Hello?"

Grace could hear a very faint, tinny version of her uncle's voice reply, "Mr. Jimmy Palmer?"

"Y-yes, sir?" Jimmy answered, swallowing nervously.

"I understand you're staying with my niece," Uncle Jack continued, in a challenging tone.

"Y-yes, sir. I work with Agent Todd."

"And you thought it wise for you, a 25-year-old man, to live with a 15-year-old girl?" Grace was having trouble suppressing her laughter. Uncle Jack was having way too much fun playing with Jimmy's head.

"W-well, sir," Jimmy swallowed again, "I d-didn't really think of it that way..."

"You didn't? Are you gay?"

"No, sir," Jimmy replied, stunned. "I just -- I mean -- Grace is just --" The poor man was almost in tears by this point and Grace took pity on him, gently tugging the phone out of his hand.

"You just watch your step," Uncle Jack continued, "I have eyes every--"

"Uncle Jack," Grace interrupted him. "Stop teasing poor Jimmy."

"Just looking out for you, Gracie," he retorted with a smile in his voice.

She rolled her eyes. "Sure, Uncle Jack. Whatever you say."

---------------

"Hey," Daniel called softly poking his head into Carter's -- and temporarily Abby's -- lab. "First Sergeant Leaven is here. Agent Gibbs is about to, um, interview him."

Abby eagerly stood, checking a few running tests, and moved quickly towards the door. She didn't want to miss this show. Sam was slightly less exuberant but equally as excited. The three made their way to the elevator, which opened to reveal Ducky, Kate, Tony, and Teal'c.

"Going down?" Tony quipped.

"AgentDiNozzo, it is likely that they are indeed proceeding to the same location as ourselves to observe the interview of FirstSergeantLeaven," Teal'c reminded Tony, rendering the latter speechless.

"Right as usual, Teal'c," Daniel responded deadpan, following the two women into the car. The guard shut the doors with a scowl.

"Hey, it's a party!" Jack commented dryly as the seven trouped into his rather small office.

They all squeezed around the large glass window that looked into the briefing room. The blast doors were down, making the room seem smaller than usual. Gibbs sat in what had become 'his' seat at the table, facing 1SG Leaven with only his coffee on the table between them.

The first sergeant, for his part, was incredibly composed. He sat straight in his chair but not stiffly, exuding calm and confidence, staring attentively but unconcernedly at Gibbs. He wasn't a particularly large man but he had an air of self-assurance that made him seem much bigger. His dirty blonde hair was neatly trimmed to regulation; his green eyes, while pointed straight ahead, gave the impression of taking in the whole room. _In short_, Kate surmised, _he's a textbook former Marine._

Gibbs began with a straightforward question. "What happened when you went through the Stargate with Colonel Havelock?"


	10. Leaven's Story

"It started very routinely, sir," the first sergeant began, still staring right through Gibbs. "It was a straightforward rescue mission. SG-14 had been negotiating the release of a Tok'ra operative from the people of P2X-382 but were unsuccessful. The natives then took SG-14 captive as well. We were to retrieve both SG-14 and the Tok'ra."

"Authorized to use deadly force?" Gibbs interjected casually.

"If necessary, though it was intended to be a covert op," Leaven answered. "In and out, no witnesses, no casualties. We assumed there would be a guard, of course, and he would have to be dispatched accordingly. However, all indications had been that the natives were an otherwise peaceful people with...misguided notions."

Behind the glass, Daniel turned quizzically to Tony. "Since when do Marines use words like 'misguided notions'?"

Tony, too, seemed baffled but Kate answered Daniel's question in a whisper. "Leaven's an Ivy Leaguer. Top quarter of his class at Yale."

Both men turned to her with expressions of disbelief. "And he _enlisted_ in the Marines?" Tony hissed incredulously. "Why?"

"Who knows?" Kate replied with a roll of her eyes. "Adventure? Testosterone? A 'misguided notion'?"

"We gated to the planet at night," Leaven continued. "The place was completely silent; everyone was asleep, as we'd expected. We started toward the village..."

* * *

Six men, black-clad forms barely distinguishable from the inky night around them, crept silently toward a sleeping hamlet. Night-vision goggles turned their world into a surreal green wonderland, while ready weapons preceded their owners into the darkness. All moved with calm confidence and catlike grace, until:

CRACK, followed by a muffled cry of pain. The last man in the formation dropped to the ground, clutching his leg. His companions, after ascertaining that the area was clear of enemies, came to his aid.

"Hoedemaker!" the leader hissed. "What happened?"

"I tripped, Colonel," the injured man whispered back, gritting his teeth against the pain. "Rabbit hole."

"We're on another planet," Leaven reminded him wryly. "They probably don't have rabbits."

"Well, whatever it was," piped up the fourth member of the team, from Hoedemaker's feet, "his ankle's broken."

"Aw, crap," groaned Hoedemaker. "Colonel, it doesn't feel that bad. I can keep on."

"No," Colonel Havelock replied swiftly. "Jones, you stay with Hoedemaker. Make your way back to the gate, but don't dial out yet. We don't want to tip these folks off any more than necessary. We'll complete the mission and be back before dawn. If we're not, get back to the SGC immediately. Understood?"

"Yessir," the two chorused, neither looking very pleased with the situation.

"Leaven, Smith, Greene, let's move out."

While the injured Marine and his escort slowly moved in the direction they had come, the four men continued toward the village in the same stance that they had been utilizing before the incident. In less than thirty minutes they had reached the outermost dwellings of the small settlement; five minutes later they were outside the house holding the prisoners. The colonel held up his hand.

"Smith, Greene," he whispered, peering into the shadows, "stand guard. Leaven, you're with me. Maintain radio silence. If we're not back in twenty, get to the gate and dial home."

The three nodded brusquely and the colonel vanished into the darkness with his first sergeant. They eased open the door, weapons at the ready. Creeping inside, they found...nothing. The single room was completely empty, dirt floor swept clean of any footprints and hearthfire dead.

The two shone their rifle-mounted lights in every corner anyway, just to be sure, before falling back and considering the situation. Colonel Havelock bent by the remains of the fire, sifting the ashes through his fingers.

"Still warm," he mouthed to Leaven.

Leaven, eyes flicking vigilantly, made another round of the room, searching for any sign that might indicate where the prisoners had been taken. An odd shadow caught his eye and he moved toward it, squinting slightly.

A barely audible 'boink' sounded from outside the hut, followed by several metallic swishes and a muted grunt. The colonel looked up sharply from his crouched position by the fire, Leaven pivoted swiftly, and they broke for the door simultaneously. To Leaven's surprise, though, the colonel stopped just inside the entrance and held up his hand. Motioning for Leaven to remain silent, he listened to the sounds of what was now unmistakably a low-volume firefight. Only when the night returned to silence did he allow Leaven to move. Sprinting to where they had left Smith and Greene, they were greeted with a grisly sight.

Greene lay slumped against the wall of the hut, weapon in hand, face set in grim determination. Dark blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, though, in stark contrast to the white foam coating his lips and dribbling down his chin. His eyes looked as if every blood vessel in them had burst and his skin, what little of it showed outside his uniform, resembled raw meat.

Smith lay nearby, sprawled on the ground in much the same condition. Leaven, frowning in disturbance, crouched next to the body and examined it as closely as he dared. He was about to roll Smith over when the colonel hissed at him from Greene's body.

_Look_, he mouthed, indicating Greene's neck. Two small, feathered darts protruded from either side. Leaven turned Smith over and found two darts in his neck, as well as one stuck in his vest. He grimly noted that he'd never seen a poison act so quickly.

Without a word, the colonel and the first sergeant each shouldered a teammate's body and set out for the stargate at as quick a pace as they could manage.

_"We found three natives dead in the street," Leaven continued, his voice carefully masking any emotion. "Smith and Greene had managed to shoot them before they were killed. We didn't run into anyone else until we got to the gate..."_

Leaven and Colonel Havelock ran, barely panting despite the heavy loads on their backs. The gate was just ahead of them and they could make out the shadowy form of Jones moving towards them.

"Colonel!" he exclaimed in a whisper, catching sight of the limp forms of Greene and Smith. "What happened?"

"The place was abandoned," the colonel replied. "They knew we were coming."

There was a sudden commotion by the gate and the silence was abruptly shattered by yells. The three men turned to see several dark figures struggling to carry...

"Hoedemaker!" Jones shouted, running toward the scuffle. There was a sound of tearing velvet and Jones flinched, grabbing his neck. The sound came again, and again, and again, darts hitting Jones in his arms, his vest, his face. It wasn't thirty seconds before he collapsed on the ground, dead.

The colonel and Leaven stared in horror from their sprawled positions on the ground; they had dropped as soon as the darts started flying. They raised their rifles and managed to hit one native before the gang melted back into the darkness, Hoedemaker's yells fading slowly into the night.

Leaven stood and readied himself to run after his teammate but the colonel stopped him with a hand on his arm. At Leaven's bewildered expression, the colonel explained.

"There's no way we can go in there. We can't protect against those darts!"

"We can't just --" Leaven began.

"The fact that they captured him alive is a good sign," the colonel rationalized. "We'll go back and get reinforcements, figure out some kind of protection against the darts, but right now we can do _nothing_."

Leaven gave the colonel a long look before slowly nodding. He picked up Smith again and carried him over to the gate, setting him down gently right next to the giant ring. The colonel did the same with Greene, and they both handled the larger Jones.

"Dial home, Leaven," the colonel sighed, and the first sergeant complied. The stone ring began churning with its encouragingly familiar sound and Leaven relaxed slightly.

A sharp 'thwack' made Leaven turn around. Seeing nothing, he glanced down in confusion and saw feathers sticking out of his vest. Alarmed, he grabbed the colonel and pushed them both to the ground. Crawling for the open wormhole, Leaven punched in his IDC and the colonel reached for his sidearm.

"Silence is out the window now," he muttered, squeezing off a deafening shot at an emerging native. Darts flew over their heads and occasionally impacted their vests, but so far none had managed to puncture the skin.

Again by mutual, silent agreement they thought first of their fallen comrades. Each grabbing one hand of Smith and Greene, and both latching on to Jones, they apologized for the indignity and dragged their friends through the gate.

* * *

Leaven finished his story with a small sigh but otherwise displayed the same lack of emotion he had maintained through the whole tale. Gibbs finished jotting a note before looking back up at the first sergeant.

"Do you blame Colonel Havelock for what happened?" he asked casually.

"No, sir," Leaven answered unequivocally. "The colonel did what had to be done. In his position, I would have done the same."

"Were you angry that he left Hoedemaker?"

"At first," Leaven admitted. "A Marine doesn't leave his men behind. But later I realized he was right. If we had gone after Hoedemaker, it only would have gotten us _all_ killed."

"Why did you leave the Corps?"

"I saw three friends die that night," Leaven explained stonily. "Three horrible deaths, and one carried off to who-knew-what-kind of torture. I realized I wasn't ready to watch more friends die, or worse. General O'Neill gave me leave and when it was over, I decided that that life wasn't so bad."

"Do you know of anyone who might have wanted to kill Colonel Havelock?"

Leaven thought for a moment. "No, sir. The colonel was well-respected and liked by those who knew him. He was a bit aloof but not unduly so." Leaven paused. "Sir, this interview isn't about that mission, is it."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow and answered simply, "No."

Leaven's eyes closed briefly in his first display of emotion since the interview began.


	11. Guilty or Not Guilty?

"First Sergeant Leaven," Gibbs barked. "Where did you get the money for your new Porsche?"

Leaven scowled. "I believe the usual answer is 'an inheritance'?"

Gibbs leaned in, his nose almost touching the other Marine's. "I'm not interested in the usual answer," he growled, so low that only Leaven could hear him. "I want the truth. And if you don't give it to me, you will only live to regret it."

"I didn't kill the colonel," Leaven said.

Gibbs gazed at him coolly. "I didn't say you did."

"Right," Leaven snorted. "You just heavily implied so."

"As far as I'm aware, First Sergeant," Gibbs shrugged, backing away. "This discussion is about you, not Colonel Havelock."

"Just say it," Leaven sighed. "You think I'm a hired gun who killed the colonel, either because I was paid to or because of some deep-seated bitterness toward the military in general and the colonel in particular. Correct?"

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "Am I wrong?"

Leaven lowered his eyes, though it was difficult to tell whether in defeat or shame. "Only by half."

Gibbs said nothing, letting the silence build until Leaven filled it himself. It was an effective interrogation tactic that he used often. It never failed.

"When I resigned," Leaven began in a low voice, "I couldn't find a job. My SGC assignment showed up as a 'deep space radar telemetry' project. Obviously the associated skills had nothing to do with the kind of work I was looking for. A couple of security firms were interested in me but they didn't like what showed up on their psych tests. I'd just seen four of my men killed; what would you expect?

"I was desperate. My pension was barely covering food and rent; I had to find work. So I took out an ad in _Soldier of Fortune_. I wasn't sure anything would come of it but I figured it couldn't hurt. Somebody answered."

Leaven apparently thought this was enough. Gibbs disagreed. "What then?" he asked coldly, never taking his eyes off the hunched former Marine in front of him.

Leaven lifted his eyes to meet Gibbs' gaze. "I filled his order," he replied flatly.

Sam frowned at the straight-forwardness of Leaven's answer. He had just spoken of murdering someone as if it were an everyday occurrence, as if he were a waiter taking down someone's menu choice. The guy was ice.

"You think he did it?" she whispered to the room in general.

"Probably."

"No."

"It is difficult to say."

"I don't know."

Kate, Tony, Teal'c, Daniel. The general chimed in with a snide, "How the hell should I know? That's what _they're_ here for," but Sam attributed his sour mood to his inability to contribute to the investigation. General O'Neill was a man of action; sitting on his butt watching others do the work was understandably difficult for him.

"Did you kill Colonel Havelock?" Gibbs asked directly.

Leaven looked him directly in the eye as he answered, with equal candor, "No."

"Why should I believe you?"

"Just because I resigned doesn't mean I hate the military," Leaven explained. "Or Colonel Havelock. I don't blame him for what happened. I left because I didn't want to see any more good men die."

"So you didn't want the colonel dead. You still could have been hired."

Leaven shook his head derisively. "Wouldn't that be a little bit too coincidental?"

"I don't believe in coincidences," Gibbs smirked.

"What, you think someone would go to all the trouble of finding and hiring me for the job, just so it would look like I acted of my own volition?" Leaven asked incredulously.

"Stranger things have happened."

"Who outside the SGC would even know about my history with Colonel Havelock?"

"Who said anything about an outside job?" Gibbs reasoned.

"If it wasn't an outside job, what are you wasting your time with me for?" Leaven demanded. "Even if I had been hired, I wouldn't know anything. You'd have a much easier time looking around here for a suspect than trying to get it out of me."

"He's reading Gibbs' mind," Tony breathed, awed.

"Oh, come on, Tony," Kate scoffed. "Anyone with half a brain could have figured that out, and Leaven's smart."

"So," Daniel broke in, still trying to understand the finer points of criminal investigation. "Leaven's off the hook now?"

"Not quite," Kate explained. "We'll keep him around, just in case, but it does look like we need to find another prime suspect."


	12. Blood Ties

The group was subdued as they entered the elevator; Leaven's story had been sobering. Daniel frowned, disturbed by the dark tale, and glanced at the NCIS agents to gauge their reactions. Kate and Tony didn't look any different but Tony's silence spoke volumes. Ducky was leaning against the wall of the elevator, apparently unperturbed; Daniel suspected that the doctor's vast experience had brought him cases far stranger. Abby stood shaking her head slowly and staring at the floor, as if she couldn't believe her ears.

And Gibbs...Gibbs was boring holes in the elevator guard with his steely glare. Daniel squinted puzzledly, shifting his gaze from one to the other, trying to figure out what was bothering Gibbs. He didn't know this particular guard that well; he usually rode the west elevator with a pleasant young man named Mayer. This guy was his polar opposite: brawny where Mayer was wiry; blonde, blue-eyed and pale while the Jew was dark; even surly to Isaac's sunny disposition.

"Whaddaya think, boss?" Tony asked quietly, interrupting Daniel's thoughts. Gibbs swiveled his eyes from the back of the guard's head to stare at Tony. The older man gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head, causing Daniel's brow to furrow further. What -- or who -- was Gibbs afraid of?

When the elevator reached the level of Sam's lab, everyone shuffled out -- except Gibbs. Pulling Abby aside, he whispered something in her ear before smiling and sending her out with an affectionate pat on the arm. She nodded assuredly at him and bounded down the hall, leaving the other six to stare at Gibbs questioningly.

"Boss --" Tony started.

"I'll be right down, DiNozzo," Gibbs dismissed him. "Go help Abby."

------------------

Jack sat in his chair, gazing at the polished surface of his desk lamp. He scowled, lowering first one eyebrow then the other. He squinted, tilting his head from side to side. He growled at the lamp, baring his teeth in a disturbingly animal fashion.

_Nope_, he thought. _I'll stick with the smirk._

"Jack," a voice came from the door. Jack looked up, suprised to see the NCIS team leader standing there.

"Back so soon?" he asked airily.

"I need Hoedemaker's personnel file." Gibbs spoke bluntly, bypassing pleasantries.

Jack decided to respect the man's directness by responding in kind. "You know I can't do that."

"Yeah," Gibbs nodded, not moving.

Jack sighed. "Why are you even here? I know you've got that computer genius of yours hacking it already."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. "What makes you so sure?"

"Because if I wanted to know something and I knew someone wouldn't give it to me, I'd put Carter on it ASAP and get permission later. Maybe," Jack added, meeting Gibbs' eyes.

--------------------

"Anything yet, Abs?" Gibbs barked, striding into the lab.

"Well --" she began.

"Agent Gibbs," Daniel interrupted, a troubled expression on his face. "May I ask what you're doing?"

"My job," Gibbs growled, staring Daniel down. Daniel met his gaze without flinching.

"Your job involves hacking classified personnel records?" Daniel pressed.

"Dr. Jackson," Tony broke in, "stay out of this." His voice was soft but his tone was flinty.

"I can't do that," Daniel answered, matching Tony's tone. "This is wrong."

"We don't need you to play morals monitor," Tony said flippantly.

"Hey!" Sam called, stepping between the two men. "That was uncalled for!"

"Actually, much as I hate to admit it, Tony kind of has a point," Kate joined the fray.

"Excuse me?" Daniel and Sam rounded on her at the same time.

"We've been doing this for a long time," Kate rationalized. "We appreciate that some of our methods may be...unorthodox, but they get the job done."

"There's a fine line between unorthodox and illegal," Daniel continued, gaping at one agent after another in disbelief.

"Dr. Jackson," Gibbs said softly, "I have permission to access this file from General O'Neill."

"What?" Daniel asked, caught off-guard. "Oh. Um, okay then. I feel...really stupid."

"Does anyone actually want to see the files in question?" Abby chirped in an impatient sing-song.

"Yeah," Gibbs answered shortly.

"File_s_?" Kate and Tony chorused.

"Uh-huh," Abby confirmed eagerly. "As I was about to tell Gibbs, before that little fight started, there are two Hoedemakers contracted at Stargate Command."

"Two poor losers got stuck with that name?" Tony asked incredulously, leaning over to see the screen. "Achilles and Patrocles? Jeez, what kind of a family does that to a kid?"

"They must be cousins," Daniel mused to himself. Embarrassed about his earlier outburst, he was trying to stay out of the way.

"What?" Gibbs barked.

"Achilles and Patrocles," Daniel explained, waving his hand vaguely. "_The Iliad_. Cousins and best friends."

"Abs?" Gibbs requested confirmation.

"There's no way to tell from these files," she complained after a few seconds feverish typing.

"Which one are we interested in?" Gibbs moved on.

Abby scanned each file briefly, Tony and Kate hovering over her shoulders and reading also.

"Patrocles," Kate called first, triumphantly. "Says he goes by Pat."

"I don't blame him," Sam chuckled from next to Daniel.

"Print it," Gibbs ordered shortly. "Print both of them," he added after a few seconds' thought.


	13. Prime Suspect

"Hold on just one second." Jack held up his hands defensively, squinting confusedly and glancing from Daniel to Gibbs. "Let me get this straight. You think this Greek kid murdered Colonel Havelock because his cousin got killed off-world?"

"We don't think anything yet," Gibbs answered smoothly. "But it's a lead."

"He's not technically Greek," Daniel broke in, ever concerned about details. "Just because his first name is Achilles--"

"Do we have anything else to go on?" Jack interrupted, ignoring Daniel and talking to Gibbs.

"Well," Gibbs began.

"This guy's background is totally screwed up," Abby contributed eagerly. At Gibbs' raised eyebrows, she muttered a not-very-penitent, "Sorry"

"It's actually quite a fascinating character study," Daniel spoke up again.

"Does _Agent_ _Gibbs_," Jack emphasized, staring pointedly at Daniel, "have anything to say about it?"

"Hoedemaker was very close to his cousin," Gibbs surmised. "He seemed to blame Colonel Havelock for his death; motive. He, like everyone else on this base, carries a nine-mil; means. He's familiar with the elevators and wouldn't be noticed in them; opportunity."

"Wait," Tony suddenly realized something. "Hoedemaker's the elevator guard? The one who looks like someone peed in his Cheerios?"

"You're quick, DiNozzo," Gibbs praised sarcastically.

"Back up," Jack stopped them, still trying to focus on the case. "'Very close to his cousin' isn't exactly the most ironclad case I've ever heard. Do you have any more?"

Gibbs smirked. "Abs?"

She smiled hugely, pulling out the personnel files with a flourish. "Staff Sergeant Achilles Hoedemaker," she recited, relishing every moment. "He goes by Kyle, by the way. Who could blame him? Anyway," she hurried on at Gibbs' impatient glare, "his file and his cousin's, Staff Sergeant Patrocles 'Pat' Hoedemaker, are identical until..." She paused for dramatic effect.

"Until?" Jack prompted.

"Until their psychological evaluations, GeneralO'Neill," Teal'c provided, sensing Jack's impatience.

"Routine evals or was there a problem?" Jack asked, proving once again that he was sharper than he usually pretended.

"They were applying to an SG team, sir," Sam clarified.

"Jeez, did they do anything by themselves?" Jack scowled incredulously.

"Not really," Daniel answered. "They grew up together, went to all the same schools, joined the Air Force together, got assigned to the SGC together. I suppose a team was the next logical step."

"The weird part is," Tony supplied. At Jack's raised eyebrow, he amended, "Another weird part is, Pat had friends. He was pretty popular, actually, even had a couple of dates with a scientist here. I don't know what he was thinking; frankly, Colonel Carter's the only hot scientist I've ever met--"

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs barked, whacking Tony smartly across the head. Jack glared at the young agent with a look that could have nailed him to the wall.

"Sorry, boss," Tony cringed. "Anyway, Kyle didn't. Have friends. The only person he even got along with was Pat."

"Which brings us back to the psych eval," Kate interjected. "I assume it's standard for all applicants to SG teams?" Jack nodded curtly. "The psychologist cleared Pat easily. He was a well-adjusted, interactive person with no significant risk factors for any psychological disorder."

"I'm guessing Kyle didn't come out quite as good," Jack predicted, finger tapping his nose musingly.

"Ah, no," Daniel confirmed with a shake of his head.

"'Highly intelligent but displays little emotion,'" Abby read from the file. "'Exhibits extreme desire for independence and control. Aggressive, mildly paranoid, vague antisocial tendencies. Does not interact well with others.'"

"A sociopath," Jack summarized. "How'd we miss that?"

"Not really a sociopath, actually," Kate clarified. "The psychologist highlighted his worst qualities but none of them were bad enough to warrant dismissal from the military. He just wouldn't have done well on a team."

"Ya think? Somebody set him off, he would've popped 'em in the back of the head!" Jack demonstrated by shaping his fingers into a gun.

"It seems to me that SergeantHoedemaker was motivated by vengeance rather than anger," Teal'c noted.

"I think Teal'c has a point, sir," Sam agreed. "He's not irrational. He hasn't killed anyone else. He only killed Colonel Havelock out of a misplaced sense of justice. And he waited a long time before acting; he must have been planning this for months!"

"Which makes it all the worse," Jack pointed out, uncharacteristically quiet.

"We don't know that he did it yet," Gibbs reminded them all. "Let's see what he has to say first."


	14. Gibbs Does What He Does Best

He didn't act guilty. Aside from his customary scowl, he cooperated pleasantly enough. He didn't bother asking what he was supposed to have done; in fact, he didn't say anything. He stood calmly in the elevator he had worked for two years, acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary, and marched into the briefing room like the exemplary airman he was.

"Staff Sergeant Hoedemaker." The silver-haired one said, not a greeting so much as a statement. He didn't respond; there was nothing to say.

He had seen the silver one around the past couple of days, the leader of the outside team. He had initially been impressed by the silver one's presence, sensing as kindred a spirit as he had ever encountered. He was used to following orders, that silver leader, more so to having them followed. While he tolerated the company of his team, he didn't seem to be a people person. Kyle liked that; he understood that.

But while shuttling the team up and down in his elevator, Kyle saw a different side to the stranger. He connected with his people in a way that Kyle had never experienced. He talked with them, laughed with them, enjoyed them. When he gave them orders, he didn't relish the power. The silver leader grew more and more to resemble the general Kyle had come to hate. In Kyle's eyes, silver turned to grey.

"Where were you when Colonel Havelock was murdered?" the old man asked straightforwardly. Well, at least he didn't hold with pleasantries. That much they had in common.

"In the east elevator, doing my job," Kyle replied lazily.

The ease of response didn't seem to bother the older agent. He switched tack seamlessly. "You didn't like Colonel Havelock, did you."

Kyle scrutinized the man before him, a half-smile playing across his face. This was almost too easy. "No," he shrugged, answering the non-question.

"Why not?"

"You know why not," Kyle answered, the smile growing. The game was getting good.

The stranger squinted, a smile of his own forming on his weathered face. It was a tighter smile, a fierce expression of grim determination. Kyle knew that look. It was the look the shrinks gave him when they tried to figure out why he didn't respond to them. He loved that look; it meant he was winning.

"Yeah, I know," the man growled, leaning in to Kyle's face. Kyle scowled despite himself; he knew the move was designed to make him uncomfortable. "And I know you know why I have to ask. So play along."

Kyle gathered himself, replacing his fleeting frown with a practiced indifference. "Oh, all right," he sighed dramatically. "If you insist."

"I do," Grey-Hair snarled.

"Colonel Havelock led the rescue mission to P2X-382, on which my cousin was killed. Ergo, he is responsible for the death of my cousin," Kyle recited in a monotone. "Look at that; I have a motive. Happy now?"

"Not hardly," the agent replied with a steely voice.

"Look," Kyle rolled his eyes, tiring of the game, "I was in the east elevator when Havelock was killed. You can check the tapes. Sure, I would've liked to have killed the bastard -- but I didn't."

"Then you won't mind if we...borrow...your weapon for testing." The older man pounced on Kyle's statement like a practiced prize-fighter. He knew what he was doing; Kyle had to give him that. But Kyle took pride in staying one step ahead of everyone.

"I wouldn't mind at all," he responded unctuously.

"Great. Hand it over." Grey-Hair snapped on a pair of gloves and held out his hand demandingly.

Kyle complied, a slow smile creeping across his face. "It won't do you much good," he commented lazily as the investigator dropped it into an evidence bag.

"Why's that?" His interest was piqued, Kyle could tell, but he did a commendable job of feigning indifference.

"My weapon was stolen the day Havelock died. This is a replacement."

"Huh," the agent grunted, maintaining his act. "We'll take that into consideration."

Kyle grinned despite himself. He was really too good. These bozos might figure it out but they'd never be able to prove it. He turned in his seat, staring through the window that framed General O'Neill and the grey-haired agent's team. He winked, slowly, enjoying the effect it seemed to have on them.

"We're done here," the man barked unceremoniously. "Get back to your post."

"What, no 'thanks for your cooperation'?" Kyle mocked, striding through the door more languidly than he had entered.

"Not for you, dirtbag," Gibbs muttered after the retreating elevator guard.


	15. Sometimes the Camera Does Lie

Sorry this took so long to post! A combination of writers' block and two very busy schedules sabotaged our posting schedule. Hopefully, it won't happen again. There may be a longer-than-normal break between the next chapter (16) and its sequel (17) but we'll do our best to avoid it. Enjoy!

* * *

"You're not going to like it, Gibbs," Abby admitted sadly, handing him the results.

"The weapons don't match," he deduced, before even glancing at the paper in his hand.

"Nope."

"Well, he said they wouldn't." Gibbs seemed oddly unfazed by the information.

"Yeah, I've been wondering about that," Daniel piped up. "Why would he tell you that? Why not just let you assume he was innocent?"

"He's playing with us," Tony explained when Gibbs didn't answer. "Trying to prove he's smarter."

"Did you check the videos, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked suddenly, emerging from deep thought.

Tony was caught off-guard. "Uh, what videos, boss?"

"The security tapes, DiNozzo!" Gibbs snapped, growing agitated. He was onto something.

"'Course, boss," Tony answered, looking affronted. "Soon as we got here. But they only show the outside of the elevator. And it's kind of hard to look for someone carrying a gun when everyone is..."

"What about the other elevators? You didn't check their tapes, did you?"

"We didn't have a reason to, boss."

"We do now. Abbs, check out the east elevator tapes." Gibbs paused, frowning. "Who talked to the west elevator guard?"

"He's not here," Kate replied. "Emergency leave."

"Then get him here!" Gibbs growled.

* * *

"What exactly am I looking for, oh great one?" Abby asked, advancing the east elevator security tapes frame-by-frame. 

"Is Hoedemaker there for the whole TOD window? Between Ducky and Jack, we've got it down to sometime around 1000."

Abby squinted in concentration, the tip of her tongue peeking out from behind her pursed lips. Gibbs waited, barely restraining his impatience. Half an hour later, Abby surfaced.

"Do you want the good news or the bad news first?"

"Abby..." Gibbs warned.

"Okay, bad first," she shrugged. "Hoedemaker was there the whole time. From 0900 to 1200, in fact, he didn't leave at all. Not even to, y'know, answer nature's call. Obviously he doesn't drink nearly as much coffee as you --"

"The good news?"

"There's something hinky about this tape."

"That's good...?" Gibbs' eyebrows knitted together.

"Gibbs! Track with me, here! 'Hinky' could mean 'tampered with' and 'tampered with' means --"

"No alibi," Gibbs concluded. He kissed her head and muttered, "You're the best, Abbs," before walking out.

"I know," she smirked, turning back to the tape to determine the precise source of the 'hinkiness' she had sensed.

* * *

"_ha'Shem_, are you serious?" 

Kate discreetly scrutinized the youthful SF seated in front of her. Isaac Mayer was an earnest-looking kid, all idealism and friendliness with only the slightest hint of worldly experience creeping into his innocent eyes. The lithe, swarthy, young Jew had only been assigned to the SGC a month ago; he'd been in the Air Force for all of eighteen months.

"Very serious, unfortunately. Could you answer a few questions for me?"

"Of course. If it will help you find the killer."

"Were you in the west elevator the day Colonel Havelock was murdered?"

"Yes," he answered openly. "Until I got a phone call from my mother saying my _bubbie_ was very sick."

"I'm sorry, 'bubbie'?" Kate asked.

"Grandmother," Mayer clarified. "I requested emergency leave and left immediately to be with the family."

"What time did your mother call?" Kate inquired.

"I'm not sure," he replied, looking troubled that he couldn't answer. "Before 1200, I know that. Maybe around 0900?"

"We'll get the phone records," Kate assured him. "Did anyone suspicious enter the elevator while you were there?"

"Suspicious, ma'am?"

"Anyone doing something strange or out of place? Looking around a lot; asking lots of questions; acting nervous?"

"I don't think so," he answered, again bothered by his lack of memory. "A lot of people go in and out of the elevator every day."

"I understand." Kate considered something he'd already said. "Who did you request emergency leave from? General O'Neill?"

"Oh, no, ma'am," he laughed lightly. "He can't be bothered with an elevator guard's family crisis. I spoke to my supervisor, Staff Sergeant Hoedemaker."


	16. Corroborating Evidence

"Gibbs!"

"Gibbs!"

"Boss!"

The cries rang out simultaneously, accompanied by the sound of three hurried pairs of feet smacking the concrete corridors. Gibbs turned from his conversation with Daniel to see his two subordinates rushing toward him, faces lit up in excitement. Abby followed, white lab coat billowing out behind her as she rounded the corner quickly. She, too, looked fit to burst.

Predictably, they began talking as soon as they ground to a halt in front of their leader. Shouting over one another for priority, they soon created a din that was turning heads in the cramped hallway. Gibbs held up his hands for silence, the simple gesture enough to stop the conversation without any additional yelling on his part. Daniel was impressed.

"That's better," he groused. "Now, what've you got?" Before they could begin their shouting match again, he pointed. "Abby."

"The tape I thought was hinky?" she reminded him. "It really is. It took a lot of staring at really boring video but I found it. Like in _Speed_, y'know? When Dennis Hopper finally figures out --" She stopped herself, noticing Gibbs' (somewhat toned-down) death glare. "Anyway, Hoedemaker must have set up some kind of video loop in the security tapes. It's a good one; he managed to get a good hour where only two nondescript guys get on and off, so it's really hard to spot the repetition."

Daniel's brow wrinkled. "So, what does that mean?"

"Hoedemaker wasn't where he was supposed to be when Colonel Havelock was killed," Abby gloated.

"Good job, Abbs. Kate," Gibbs nodded to her.

"I talked to the west elevator guard, Isaac Mayer. He was never a suspect because he wasn't here when the murder took place. He was on emergency leave; his grandmother was sick."

"We know that," Gibbs prompted.

"Yeah, but he requested his emergency leave at about 9:00 from his supervisor, Staff Sergeant Hoedemaker," Kate finished dramatically.

"Hoedemaker knew the west elevator was unguarded and wasn't at his post in the east elevator," Daniel summarized. "Sounds pretty open-and-shut."

"Still pretty circumstantial," Gibbs muttered. "DiNozzo."

"You're gonna love this, boss," Tony grinned widely, holding up an evidence bag. "I found the weapon."

For the briefest of split seconds, Gibbs actually looked surprised. He recovered quickly, though, replacing his raised eyebrows with a small smirk.

"Not bad, DiNozzo. Abby --"

"On it," she sang, snatching the bag and rushing back to Carter's lab.

"Tony," Gibbs beckoned him closer. Lowering his voice, "Do I want to know where you found that weapon?"

"It was all by-the-book, boss; I swear," Tony vowed. "I was reprocessing the doors on the 14th floor for trace when they just opened, all by themselves. I don't really believe in ghosts but that brought back some pretty bad memories..." Tony cleared his throat. "Anyway, there was no car behind the doors. I shined my flashlight up and down the shaft, trying to see what made the doors open, right? The light reflected off something about two levels down."

"DiNozzo, just get to the point!"

"The weapon was caught on a gear box. I'll bet Hoedemaker tossed it down the shaft thinking no one would ever find it at the bottom."

"You wouldn't have," Daniel commented, ignoring the fact that he was the reason they had lowered their voices. "This facility goes down for miles. You're only on the tip of the iceberg, so to speak."

"Bring him in," Gibbs ordered, ignoring Daniel.

"Didn't you just say it's too circumstantial?" Daniel asked, puzzled.

Gibbs glanced at the scientist briefly before walking away in the direction of Jack's office. Tony swaggered toward Daniel, pleased to be the teacher for once.

"We've got enough to arrest him," he explained. "Then Gibbs'll break him in interrogation. And if we match the weapon..."

"He's done for," Daniel finished, understanding. Tony nodded, satisfied with his 'student.'

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs' voice rang out, amplified by the austere walls. "I want Hoedemaker in my custody yesterday!"

"On it, boss."


	17. Elevator Music

"Good day, StaffSergeant," Teal'c nodded politely at the elevator guard.

The man's eyes flicked toward the Jaffa and he nodded curtly in reply. He seemed somewhat agitated, the larger man noticed. It was, of course, part of a Jaffa's training to recognize fear in an opponent and employ that weakness to one's advantage. Teal'c sensed, though StaffSergeantHoedemaker was hiding it well for a human, that he was indeed very afraid.

Teal'c, too, did not allow any emotion to show on his face or in his behavior. He suspected that the staff sergeant had had something to do with ColonelHavelock's death, though the evidence he was aware of was still insufficient, but he expertly covered his suspicion with his usual stoic expression. It was well, he decided, that so few knew of his involvement in the investigation. StaffSergeantHoedemaker had no reason to believe Teal'c even knew who he was, let alone his connection to ColonelHavelock.

Teal'c was not worried, precisely, but he was certainly wary. StaffSergeantHoedemaker was a disturbed individual whether or not he had murdered the colonel. If he _had_ murdered ColonelHavelock, he had managed to subdue a much better-trained man and kill him with apparent ease. StaffSergeantHoedemaker was not a small man, either. Teal'c could defeat him, of course -- he had the better training and far more experience -- but it would not a be 'as easy as cake.'

They reached level 27 and Teal'c prepared to disembark. He needed to speak with O'Neill regarding the resumption of stargate travel; he was scheduled to meet with Bra'tac tomorrow about the Jaffa Resistance.

As the doors opened, Teal'c caught sight of the young man from NCIS. (An odd group, to be sure, but essentially not so different from his own SG-1, he reflected.) AgentDiNozzo heard the elevator as it reached the floor and turned, starting toward them. Friendly though he appeared, Teal'c could read the determined intent in his eyes.

Apparently, StaffSergeantHoedemaker could also. He quickly struck the 'Close Doors' button, smiling grimly as AgentDiNozzo hurried in vain to reach the elevator before it shut. Hoedemaker quickly drew his weapon and pointed it at Teal'c, stopping the Jaffa with his hands halfway to his zat'ni'katel.

"Don't move," he snarled, the 9mm disconcertingly steady in his hands.

"I do not wish to harm you," Teal'c tried to assure him, slowly moving his hands upward as he had seen on television.

"Whatever," Hoedemaker dismissed him. "Just shut up and don't move. We're going for a little ride."

-------------------

"He's got Teal'c?" the general asked incredulously.

"Yes, sir," Tony recounted, finishing his breathless report to Gibbs and General O'Neill. The general had immediately shut down the elevators when Tony had burst into his office shouting; now they wanted an explanation.

"It's worse than I thought," Jack moaned.

"What do you mean?" Tony asked, when it appeared no one else would.

"Have you seen Teal'c, Agent DiNozzo?"

"Yeah..."

"Big guy, right? Built kinda like a brick wall? With a huge gold tattoo on his forehead that says he's one of the best fighters in the known universe? _That_ Teal'c?" Jack confirmed sarcastically. Tony, catching on quickly, was silent. "I think you get my point," Jack continued, "but just in case, I'll spell it out for you. Anyone who can hold Teal'c hostage is extremely dangerous, anyone who'd want to is more than a little nuts, and anyone who'd try is flat-out desperate. _Capisce_?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good." Jack turned to Gibbs. "I'll call up SG-12; they're SWAT-capable and HRT-trained. I'll let your people tag along but my guy has point. Got it?"

"I got it, Jack."

"You're not going to ask about deadly force?" Jack asked in mock surprise. "Beg me to do everything I can to capture him, not kill him, so you can nail his butt to the wall in a court-martial? Demand command of the mission?"

Gibbs just smirked slightly.

Jack shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I'm gonna tell you right now, I want the guy alive. But if it's him or Teal'c..."

Gibbs' eyes met Jack's, blue telling brown that he understood and concurred. The two nodded in silent agreement, then each turned to his own responsibilities.

"Walter," Jack barked into his intercom, "get SG-12 in the briefing room ASAP. And make sure there's coffee."

"DiNozzo," Gibbs muttered, "go grab Kate and meet us in the briefing room. Bring your weapons."

-------------------

"What is your intention, StaffSergeant?" Teal'c asked carefully.

"What part of 'shut up' don't you understand?" Hoedemaker growled, jerking his nine-mil to remind Teal'c of the situation.

"I apologize," Teal'c remarked with a slight bow of his head. "I simply wish to prepare myself for a warrior's death, if that is what you intend."

"You better watch yourself, buddy," Hoedemaker sneered coldly. "You've been watching too much TV. I'm not like those idiot psychos. I know exactly what I'm doing and nothing you say is going to make me lose my focus or screw up somehow. Got it? So, for the last time, shut up or I'll do you like I did Havelock."

Teal'c complied this time, recognizing the deadly combination of desperation and pride that made cornered animals so dangerous.

--------------------

"November Charlie India Sierra, this is Sierra Gulf One-Two," the voice crackled over the radio.

"Go ahead, One-Two," Gibbs replied.

"Looks like he's stopped between levels 24 and 23, November," the commander of SG-12 reported. "Take your team to 23. My team will proceed to level 21 and hit him from above. Your people will stop him if he tries to run. Over."

"Roger, One-Two. Gibbs out."

"Boss," Tony whispered as they made their way to level 23, "how are we supposed to stop him in an elevator?"

"Tony," Kate jumped in, "it's obvious."

"Well then, please, enlighten me, oh wise one."

"If he manages to get the doors open, he can crawl out," she explained smugly, sneaking a look at Gibbs to make sure she was right. His face was inscrutable, as always. "We'll be waiting for him, though."

"How will he get the doors open?" Tony shot back.

"Teal'c," Gibbs supplied when Kate was stumped.

"How does he crawl out, then?" Tony pressed, sure he had them this time. "There's no way he can make it without Teal'c's help, but he can't hold a gun on him when he's standing on his shoulders."

"Maybe he kills him and stands on the body, DiNozzo," Gibbs snapped, sobering them all. "Hoedemaker's desperate; he'll find a way."

-------------------

Teal'c was growing concerned. AgentDiNozzo must have reported StaffSergeantHoedemaker's flight to O'Neill, since the elevator had stopped shortly after. Teal'c was equally sure O'Neill would send someone -- likely SG-12 -- to stop Hoedemaker from escaping. But no one had yet appeared.

It was difficult enough to determine the passage of time in the windowless SGC but it was impossible in a small, dark elevator. It could have been five minutes since the elevator stopped, or five hours. Even Teal'c, whose senses were especially keen, had no idea -- though he was fairly certain it had been considerably less time than it felt like.

Hoedemaker wasn't talking, which concerned Teal'c all the more. Talking would give him some indication of Hoedemaker's state of mind, his weaknesses, even his intentions. Silence only told him that Hoedemaker was very dangerous, and he already knew that. Teal'c was not about to start a conversation, either; Hoedemaker's last threat had been issued with a cold certainty that assured Teal'c he meant to carry it out.

A faint noise caused Teal'c's ears to perk up, though he hid his renewed alertness from Hoedemaker. It sounded like something was on the roof of the elevator car. A rescue team, perhaps?

Their dark corner of the universe suddenly exploded in a flash of light and a deafening report. Teal'c was stunned by the unanticipated blast and could only hope Hoedemaker had been as well.

---------------------

The NCIS team stood outside the doors of level 23, weapons at the ready, waiting for any sign that SG-12 had not fulfilled their mission. They heard the flash-bang grenade go off, muted considerably by the thick doors, and inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. It was all downhill from here.

Each team member played the scene they couldn't see in their minds. SG-12, having disoriented Hoedemaker (Teal'c would be an unfortunate innocent casualty), would drop into the car and incapacitate him. When he was cuffed, and hopefully that was all it would take, they would radio NCIS and General O'Neill. The power would be returned to the elevators, they would open the doors, and Hoedemaker would be escorted to a secure cell to await transport to an official lock-up.

"November Charlie," the radio squawked, "Sierra Gulf One-Two has completed the mission. Suspect is in custody and ready for transport. Over."

"Roger that, One-Two," Gibbs responded. "November Charlie is ready to receive the suspect. Gibbs out."

The elevator doors opened and Hoedemaker was unceremoniously shoved out, his arms bound behind his back, by the leader SG-12. They were followed by SG-12's 2IC, helping a somewhat dazed Teal'c from the car. The two remaining members of SG-12 dropped through the open ceiling hatch and followed their teammates out.

"Thanks, guys," Tony grinned to the Marine combat unit. They ignored him, turning to Gibbs instead.

"We'll escort him to the holding cell, sir," the commander reported. "You're welcome to accompany us."

Gibbs nodded tersely, adding a regardful, "Hoorah, Marines."

"Hoorah, sir!"

--------

Their going was made slow by Hoedemaker's passive resistance. He behaved like a dead man, going limp and refusing to cooperate at all. Two members of SG-12 had to support the large man, dragging him down the halls and lifting his flaccid feet over the occasional obstacle. They took no pains to spare him any discomfort, either, and his lower half often found itself knocked against a hastily-turned corner.

After one such particularly violent incident, one of the Marines lost his grip on Hoedemaker's arm and the suspect fell heavily to his knees. In a flash, Hoedemaker swept one leg behind the Marine who still held his other arm, knocking him to the floor. On his feet in an instant, Hoedemaker ran down the corridor heedless of the echoing shouts behind him.

"Freeze!" Gibbs yelled coldly, aiming his weapon.

Hoedemaker paid him no heed. His gait was awkward with his hands cuffed behind his back but he still made remarkably good time. He appeared to be heading for elevator at the end of the hall, barreling right over one unfortunate airman who had just stepped out of her quarters. Hoedemaker had to know that between three and seven weapons were pointed at him, but he didn't seem to care.

"Hoedemaker!" Gibbs called one last time. The big blond man turned, fixing Gibbs with an empty stare, before continuing his clumsy flight.

Gibbs didn't hesitate. One shot, one kill. Or in this case, one wound. The bullet hit Hoedemaker in the back of his right knee and he went down like a ton of bricks, his considerable momentum propelling him forward a few feet before he collapsed completely. He was writhing on the floor screaming obscenities when Gibbs -- followed closely by Kate, Tony, and SG-12 -- reached him.

"You'll pay for this!" Hoedemaker hollered. "I'll kill you all!"

"Not on my watch," Gibbs growled softly.


	18. Wrapping Up

Jack sighed deeply, one hand tucked under his chin while the other twirled a pen idly. Paperwork. It really sucked. He wondered vaguely what would happen if some of it, y'know, 'spontaneously' combusted. Nothing he could do about it, really. It would happen so fast.

Jack let that train of thought chug into oblivion, sighing again as he gazed at the piles of paper on his desk. He was glad, of course, that Colonel Havelock's killer had been found and life could return to normal...or it's regular level of weirdness, anyway. But all this damn paperwork! It would almost have been easier if Gibbs had killed Hoedemaker.

"Aim for the center mass," Jack grumbled, settling down to the task ahead of him. "That's how the train ya. But no! You gotta show off and hit a moving target in the knee. Mr. Marine Sniper, saving the world one blown knee at a time."

"The paperwork's worse when they're killed," Gibbs commented drily. Jack glanced up to see the NCIS agent standing in the door. "Trust me, I know."

"Hmph," Jack grunted as Gibbs walked in and took a seat. "Makes my knees hurt just thinking about it."

"Well," Gibbs observed, "if you hadn't been jumping out of those perfectly good airplanes..."

"You trying to tell me you never jumped?" Jack replied incredulously, raising an eyebrow.

"You saying you don't believe me?" Gibbs returned, matching the eyebrow.

There was a long pause before Jack rolled his eyes. "So, you're taking off now?"

"Yep."

"Leaving me with all the paperwork."

"We've got our fair share."

"I'm sure," Jack smiled.

* * *

The briefing room buzzed as nine people, strangers a week ago, talked animatedly to one another. The NCIS team was waiting for their ride to the airport, and Jack and SG-1 had come to see them off.

"This has been fun," Tony grinned smoothly, turning up the charm. "We should do it again sometime."

"What, have a Marine murdered?" Sam shot back, disgusted.

"Thanks for letting me set up in your lab," Abby piped up, defusing the situation.

"No problem, anytime," Sam replied, gratefully turning her attention to Abby.

"We have got to talk about some of your awesome equipment," Abby said animatedly, eyes widening with excitement.

"Hey, I'd love to!" Sam responded. "Did you see the EMP generator?"

"No! You seriously have one?"

"It's been a pleasure, my boy," Ducky nodded to Daniel, offering his hand. "We really need to have a talk about your travels in Egypt. You must have some fascinating stories."

"I'm sure not as fascinating as yours, Doctor," Daniel smiled indulgently, eyes twinkling at the friendly ME.

"Oh, you flatter me, Dr. Jackson," Ducky chuckled. "Did I tell you the one about the young man who was pushed off a cliff and lived long enough to call the police?"

"Indeed you did, DoctorMallard," Teal'c rumbled. "I was particularly fond of that one, as well as the tale of the woman who was skinned for her tattoo."

"Oh, that's one of my favorites," Ducky agreed.

"Say hey to Grace for me, okay?" Jack requested, clapping Kate on the shoulder.

"Of course," Kate replied.

"And tell her I want _The Simpsons_ season seven DVDs for my birthday," he continued, completely straight-faced.

"Will do," Kate agreed.

"That some kind of TV show?" Gibbs asked.

Jack's jaw dropped. "You're kidding, right?"

"Gibbs watches the _Farm_ _Report_," Kate explained in a low voice.

"What's that?"

"Never mind," Kate muttered, shaking her head.

"The car's here!" Tony called, dropping the phone that no one else had heard ring. The NCIS team looked up from their various conversations.

"Well," Ducky nodded to Daniel and Teal'c, "it's been interesting, gentlemen. I hope we meet again under better circumstances."

"Can I email you?" Abby asked Sam eagerly. Carter shrugged. "Awesome! See ya!"

"Jack," Kate smiled at her not-brother, stepping into the elevator.

"General," Gibbs said solemnly, shaking Jack's hand. "Take care."

"You, too," Jack returned awkwardly.

And then they were gone, as quickly as they had arrived.

**

* * *

**

* * *

"Daniel," Jack called.

"Yeah, Jack?" Daniel turned back, his hand on the door.

"That book you mentioned," Jack started, brow furrowing. "Ilya-something-or-other--"

"_The Iliad_?"

"That's the one," Jack crowed triumphantly.

"What about it?"

"Wasn't that was written by a guy named Homer?"


End file.
